


Charmed Heart

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Way Brothers live in a different world that normal people.  They're part of a hidden society of magically Gifted people, with the ability to tap into the natural magic that surrounds them, concentrated into nodes called Hearts.  Gerard can <i>See</i> things, and Mikey is the most powerful magic user of his generation.</p><p>Frank Iero's family was destroyed by magic, and he's determined to make sure that never happens to anyone else.  He travels, catches glimpses of the other world, and hunts down Hearts, shattering them with his particularly destructive brand of power.  Lindsey Ballato has joined Frank in his quest, her own life scarred by magic.</p><p>What happens when Frank and Lindsey go after the Way Brothers?  </p><p>What do you do when you fall in love with your greatest enemy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charmed Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for supernatural elements, non-permanent major character death, anger, angst, two flashback scenes to off-screen deaths with mentions of blood, very minor and brief suicidal thoughts.
> 
> The two major bits of inspiration came from the movie _Practical Magic_ and the song _A Charming Spell_ by Splashdown. 
> 
> Many many thanks to my cadre of betas: Andeincascade, Lucifuge5, Argentumlupine, and Prophetic. They worked hard to help wrestle this story into shape. Thanks so much, lovelies.
> 
> Please check out the [awesome art and mix](http://truthismusic.dreamwidth.org/1744.html) created by [](http://truthismusic.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://truthismusic.dreamwidth.org/)**truthismusic**.

It's a cloudy winter day, cold and quiet.

To the north he can feel the buzz of activity from the city, eight million people living, breathing, laughing, loving, dying. It's distracting, so many people, but over the years Gerard's gotten good at blocking it out when he needs to.

"Something's coming," Gerard says, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the sky. He inhales slowly, deeply, tasting the promise of snow in the air. And something else. "Can you feel it?"

"What do the bones say?"

Gerard laughs. "'Change.'" He opens his eyes and looks at Mikey, who is watching him jitter in place. He squats down and places his hand against the flat surface of his casting stone, feeling it warm to his touch.

He remembers being twelve and dragging Mikey to the river to search for the perfect rock, poking around in the shallow water for hours before finally stumbling across this stone. It was dark green, worn smooth by time, slightly concave in the middle. He'd shouted gleefully and Mikey had helped him pull it free from the river bottom, and they'd carried it back to the house.

Mom and Dad and Nana had met them there, and after Gerard had carefully set his stone in a spot near the Heart, Nana had formally given him the pouch that held the bones. 

It had been three generations since the Ways had produced a Seer, and with the proper amount of gravity, Gerard had opened the pouch and poured the bones into his hand.

These were the bones of his ancestors and they had whispered in his ear, showed him how to toss the bones onto the stone, and to See.

He's cast the bones hundreds, thousands of times by now, but each time, it feels like the first, the power surging through him. They rattle in his hand, hollow and clacking, and his power curls around the fingerbones of long-dead Ways. He throws them, and they clatter against the stone before skittering to a stop.

Gerard examines the fall, eyes taking in the location and orientation of each of the bones, and the whispers in his head grow louder.

_drawn man, painted lady_  
_dangerous hearts_  
_hidden longing_  
_two together_  
_two apart_

There's a long pause, and then—"That's spectacularly unhelpful, Gee."

Gee shakes his head. "It's too close," he says softly. "You know I can't See clearly when it's close to me." He shivers, feeling empty without the power moving in him.

Mikey twitches his hand and the air around them warms. "What did you See?"

His power doesn't work well when Gerard focuses on his own life. It's like looking through a cloudy mirror, or at old, scratched photographs, but talking to Mikey about it sometimes pulls out details he didn't catch the first time.

"A woman, she's beautiful, full red lips and dimples. A bloody knife, tied with a white ribbon. A dead tree, stark against the snow." Gerard takes a deep breath, because this last image disturbs him. "You, resting in a casket, your hands crossed neatly over your chest." He shudders, even though he knows, he _knows_ that death is just a metaphor, a representation of change, but it still bothers him to see Mikey like that, still and cold.

"What else, Gee?" Mikey asks, moving close and pulling Gerard into a hug. "What else did you See?"

Gerard tries to remember, but the images are starting to blur. "Tattoos washing away in the rain. A turtle. A laughing child, a little girl with blond curls. And—" but it's gone before he can finish the sentence.

This is the problem with being a Seer. Divination is part poetry, part philosophy and part guesswork. Gerard's good at it, except when it involves his own life. Then his power starts to erode the lines between the pasts and futures and it's—it's confusing.

Mikey snorts. "Change, indeed."

Shrugging, Gerard gathers up the bones, jiggling them in his hand. Each one has a unique aura, a reflection of the person who it belonged to. Some are strong and powerful, like Annis, the Witch of Lochcorr. Others are quieter, like Pietro and little Emily, who was still a young girl when she died. A few are so old that they've lost their names over the passage of time.

To Gerard, they're all as familiar to him as Mikey and his parents, and just as real.

"Maybe we can sense something together." Mikey grips his shoulder and pulls Gerard with him as they walk nearer to the Heart. Gerard feels the tingle of power as Mikey channels the energy, familiar and known, through them. He closes his eyes and centers himself, opening all the pathways, and Mikey _floods_ him with energy.

Mikey's always been the stronger of the two of them.

With Mikey's help, Gerard Sees so much more, not just through time, but space. He can feel the pulsing network of Hearts; they glow in his mind's eye, and Mikey hums softly. Gerard stretches out his senses, eyes still closed, and frowns. There's a smudge of darkness to the south, and one of the smaller Hearts is _gone_. "That's not possible," he murmurs, and feels Mikey's worried agreement.

Gerard purses his lips and blows gently, and the darkness in his mindscape dissipates, like a dark fog. There's a blank spot where the missing Heart should be, and when Gerard tries to Touch, the pain is searing.

"Fuck," Mikey whispers, and Gerard shudders. Something, _someone_ went through a great deal of effort to destroy the Heart, to dig up the physical manifestation and drain it of power, leaving behind a gaping psychic wound. "What about Greg and Bryan and their families—"

"They're okay," Gerard whispers. "I can't feel them, but they've got to be safe, hiding away from whatever happened—"

Mikey's fingers dig into Gerard's shoulder, but it doesn't distract Gerard from the vision that's coalescing in his mind, a shadowed young man, pointy-chinned and shaggy-haired, ragged and rough. Ink crawls across his skin, black lines and bold colors. "Drawn man," he whispers. He watches as the man smokes a cigarette and flicks the butt, drawing up the collar of his jacket.

Gerard tries to See deeper, but all he can sense is anger and despair and bitterness, layer after layer of it. The man radiates danger and menace, almost vibrates with it.

The man's face fades away, only to be replaced by another, a woman this time. Her lips are bright red against her pale skin, and Gerard feels his heart skip a beat in recognition. "Painted lady."

"Who is she?" Mikey ask, and Gerard wishes he knew.

"I don't know," he answers, and it tastes like a lie on his tongue. Not-memories wash over him, the sound of her laugh, the scent of her perfume, how her skin glows in the moonlight. The way she makes him feel, dizzy and breathless, hot-blooded and desperate. "I don't know," he repeats, and he's suddenly afraid of this woman, the painted lady with the bright tattoos trailing down her arms.

"Easy, Gee," Mikey murmurs, and Gerard focuses on Mikey's words, the way he feels safe and surrounded by Mikey's power, enveloped and protected. He pushes his abilities, leaning against Mikey for support. 

"There," he says, feeling the roil of anger emanating from the drawn man. "He's heading this way." Gerard can't help the shiver of fear that crawls up his spine. "He's hunting us." There's no doubt in Gerard's mind. "He's coming for our Heart." There's predatory intent surrounding the man, hungry and determined.

"Shhhh, Gee, it's okay. I won't let him hurt us."

Gerard opens his eyes and blinks against the snowflakes drifting down from the grey sky. He swallows hard and looks at Mikey. "I'm afraid."

"Me, too," Mikey admits, and pulls Gerard close for a hard hug.

* * *

The problem with Seeing is that Gerard has no idea of _when_. Over the years he's managed to hone his abilities, but pinpointing the time events will happen is still almost impossible.

Gerard doesn't sleep much, just tosses and turns, images of the drawn man haunting him. He imagines their Heart destroyed and shattered, his family lost and broken, Mikey in the coffin, still as death. He can't stop seeing it, and when he finally succumbs to his exhaustion, he dreams of _her_. 

( _She touches him, drags her red-painted nails down his chest, following the trail of dark hair to his belly, laughing as he shivers under her fingers. Her mouth is wet and hungry, and she bites at his neck like a vampire, leaving behind faint marks that will fade before morning. Gerard twists and gasps under her, hands clenching in the sheets and he moans, needy and wanton. "Please, please" he pleads, and her smile is wicked in the darkness. She moves lower, and lower, whispering all the filthy things she wants to do to him against his skin, like secrets, and she cups his balls and breathes softly against his aching cock. Gerard wants—needs more, he's so hard he hurts. "Please," he pants, and she parts her red lips and swallows him down. Her hands dig in and hold his hips down, keeping him from arching up off the bed. "Oh fuck, oh fuck—" Everything is hot and soft and he can feel the tension building, muscles taut and straining and _fuck_ — she pulls back with a chuckle, teasing him with her tongue. Gerard can't help himself, can stop the rush of pleasure that surges through him like lightning._)

Gerard cries out, and the sound of his own voice wakes him just as he comes all over his hand and his belly, body thrumming with electric aftershocks. He turns his face into his pillow, taking deep, deliberate breaths, trying to ignore how lonely he feels in his solitary bed. He doesn't want to miss her warmth and the way she touches him, like something precious that belongs to her.

But he does.

* * *

Mikey retreats to their library, in the attic. He's never heard of a Heart being destroyed, but that doesn't mean much. There's shelf after shelf of historical documents and records; if it's happened before, it's sure to be mentioned _somewhere_. 

Nana notified the Breithiúna, the closest thing the Gifted have to a ruling body, and they'd sent people to investigate what happened to the destroyed Heart and its caretakers. Greg and Bryan and their families, generations of Attonitos and Kienlens protecting their Heart. They are friends, family, and Mikey is worried about them.

"Take a break, Mikey," Donna Way says, sliding a food-laden plate in front of him. "You've been digging through the books for hours now." 

"Gotta keep looking," he mumbles, taking a bite of the sandwich she'd made for him. His stomach grumbles and he realizes that he's starving. "Thanks, Ma. You're the best." He eats the rest of the sandwich in three bites and starts on the chips.

She squeezes his shoulder and leans down to press a kiss to his hair. "I just worry, is all." She shivers and rubs at her arms. "There's something in the air. . ."

Mikey laughs softly. "That's exactly what Gerard said." Mikey knows that she has a touch of the Sight, even though her strength lies in Healing. Both of his parents are powerful Healers.

Donna is a Healer of hearts; the lost and broken find their way to her beauty salon, sit in her chair and listen to her chatter as she cuts and curls and colors their hair. Don is the opposite, he Heals machines. "Never met a machine I couldn't fix," he always says, and it's true.

"Well, your brother's usually right about these kinds of things," she says.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he says. "There's something dangerous coming."

Donna's eyes grow distant. "Yes."

* * *

The report from the Breithiúna, once Mikey reads through it, relieves some of Mikey's worries. The caretakers of the Heart are all right, everyone accounted for, no one hurt. What's strange is that none of them remember anything leading up to the destruction of their Heart. Their memories have been tampered with, certain memories excised with almost surgical precision, and Mikey has never heard of anything like it before.

He logs into the private network, the one that the Gifted use, and expands his search. He'd been looking for events only in the northeast, but when he widens his criteria, he finds _more_. A lot more. There's a ragged trail of destroyed Hearts stretching across the country, starting in Oregon, moving down to California, then across Arizona, Texas, Tennessee, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and now Jersey.

The first Heart, in Oregon, was destroyed almost ten years ago. This is not a new thing.

He Reaches out to Gerard, because he needs to see this. And maybe he can See something that Mikey can't.

Mikey hears Gerard thunder up the stairs, feels Gerard's familiar aura, warm and reassuring, and his stomach settles a little. "Gee, look at this," he says.

Gerard peers over his shoulder and looks at the map, with the little black x's scattered across the country. "Oh." He holds his hand over the monitor, closes his eyes, and Mikey can feel the flicker of power.

"There's a few more that the Breithiúna missed, older incidents. Here and here and here." Gerard touches the screen and x's bloom in various parts of New Jersey. "This is where he started. This is where it _all_ started."

"Jersey." 

"Yeah, maybe what was happening got noticed, so he moved to the west coast. Since then, he's been working his way back." Gerard bit at his lip in thought.

"To us."

Gerard shuddered. "Yeah."

"Well, he can try," Mikey said, fiercely. He would die to defend their Heart, and his family.

"Hopefully it won't get to that point, Mikes. We need to figure out who this guy is, and why he's doing this. These first few events are the key; I can Feel it."

Mikey nods. "Yeah. Let's see what we can dig up."

* * *

The Greyhound bus drops them off at the Stop 'n' Shop, which doubles as a bus station. There's a picnic bench outside; they drink terrible convenience store coffee and try to get their bearings.

"Can you Feel it?" he asks, wrapping his fingers around his cup. It's chilly, but it's still late autumn and the cold hasn't really set in yet. 

Lindsey closes her eyes and Frank feels her unfurl her power, searching—

"Yeah," she says, as the wind picks up and blows her hair into her face. "Yeah, I can Feel it. It's strong."

The town buzzes with magical energy, and it makes Frank sick to his stomach. So-called Gifted people using their power to hurt others, to destroy families. It's wrong, and it makes Frank so angry.

Lindsey reaches across the table and covers his hand with hers, squeezing. It's her way of letting him know that he's losing control, that his rage is slipping free. It's dangerous. In his head, he sees the metal chest that he visualizes as the place where he keeps all of his destructive energies; the lid is slightly ajar. 

He pushes down on the lid and it settles back into place with a _clang_ that echoes in his head.

Lindsey pats his hand and sips her coffee. "There was a diner down the road with a 'help wanted' sign. Probably a good place to start."

Frank sighs, because he really fucking hates working in diners. Cook, dishwasher, busboy, it all sucks. But they need to blend in and getting a job helps a lot with that. Belleville isn't the Pines, but it's not exactly Newark, either.

Lindsey manages to charm the owner of the Full Moon Diner and they both leave gainfully employed. It helps, Frank supposes, that they both have a lot of experience working in diners. It's the overnight shift, 11 P.M. to 8 A.M., with an hour break for lunch. Lunch is on the house, as long as it's not the steak, and Frank can totally get behind free food.

There's a cheap-ass motel near the diner, a obvious remnant of the 60's. It's called the Starlite, and there are yellow stars painted on the doors and walls. The flickering neon sign proclaims 'Rent by the hour, week, month!' The skeezy desk clerk leers at Lindsey, and Frank slaps his hand on the counter to get his attention. "You got a problem with my sister?" he asks, threading menace into the question.

The man backpedals. Frank may be small, but he knows how to project himself. Being tattooed doesn't hurt, either. "No, no problem." He raises his hands in apology. "Sorry, man, didn't know she was your sister. No harm, no foul."

Frank just scowls and pays for a month's rent in advance, snatching the keys from the counter and handing a set to Lindsey.

"Room 204," the guy says. "Out the door, turn left, up the stairs, fourth room."

"Thanks," Frank says, letting Lindsey lead the way.

They find the room without much trouble, and Lindsey struggles to get her backpack off, letting it drop to the floor. The room decor is ugly, all 70's oranges and yellows, faux wood paneling and fraying bedspreads. It's chilly in the room and Frank kicks at the cheap heating unit on the wall until it clicks on.

There's a particularly ugly painting on the wall, a greenish geometric shape, and some blobs. Lindsey seems fascinated by it. "I think it's supposed to be a turtle."

"Yeah?" Frank asks absently, checking the windows. "Watch out for that guy, Linds. That fucker won't hesitate to—"

Lindsey tears her attention away from the painting. "Yeah, I know, Frankie." She shudders. "Ugh, I could feel his eyes all over me. Makes me feel dirty." 

She looks as tired as Frank feels. "Sleep first, yeah? Go do some shopping in the morning for work clothes, some basics, then more sleep until work?"

Lindsey nods as she sits on the bed and starts unlacing her boots. Frank does the same and they crawl under the covers, not even bothering to take off their clothes. The sheets are icy and they huddle together for warmth. Frank shivers for a while before dropping off to sleep.

* * *

Mikey Feels it when they arrive, the drawn man and the painted lady. It starts off as a prickling under his skin, something he can mostly ignore, but as the day goes on, it gets worse, distracting and annoying. 

"You Feel it?" he asks Gerard.

Gerard can be an asshole, sometimes. "I feel a disturbance in the Force."

"Not funny," Mikey grumps, and Gerard shrugs. 

The drawn man is here, in their town, a threat to their family, their lives. Mikey doesn't know what the stranger really wants, or what it's going to take to stop him, but he'll do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

"What does he want?" Gerard asks, mostly talking to himself. 

Mikey retreats to the library and sits on the floor, puts himself into a trance and reaches outward. He can Feel the bright points of the Gifted, and it's easy to identify some of them individually, family members, long-known friends, people who came seeking the protection of the Way-Rush family and their Heart. Some points burn hot, others are softer, dimmer but treasured nonetheless. And there—

Two diamond specks, unknown and new. They're strong, but Mikey already knew that. But now, he sees _how_ strong and it's frightening. 

He reaches out for Gerard, pulls him into linkage and shows him what he's found.

Gerard startles a little, surprised and fearful, and for a minute it seems hopeless. If Gerard is afraid, Mikey's not sure how they're going to get through this.

 _fuck that,_ Gerard says in his head. _we can do this_. And even though Mikey can feel that it's mostly bravado, he believes. He's always believed in Gerard. 

Gerard drifts away and Mikey listens to any information he can pick up from the drawn man and his companion. He gets the sense that they're about the same age, plus or minus a few years. Mikey doesn't get too close, because he doesn't want them to notice his presence, but he can hear faint music coming from the drawn man, something punky and angry and fast. 

It sounds like Black Flag, and the Misfits. Mikey smiles; at least this guy has good taste in music.

He eavesdrops some more, and finally gets a hint of a name: Frank. A name is good, a name is helpful. Mikey focuses on his physical self, concentrates and opens his eyes. He shakes his arms and settles firmly back into his body.

It takes a while, because there are an awful lot of Franks in the Social Security Administration's records. He ends up with a list of 177,358 Franks living in New Jersey. He narrows it down by filtering by age, dropping those under 25 and those over 35, but it's still a pretty big list.

He uses Gerard's Ouija board to try to find Frank's last name. He gets as far as F-U-C before realizing he's being punked by the board, and it's got to be his grandfather behind the planchette. "Grandpa," he sighs, and the planchette darts around the board under his fingers, and the clattering sounds like laughter.

M-I-K-E-Y, the board says, and yeah, it's got to be Grandpa Way. K-I-D-S-?

"Not yet, Grandpa. Haven't met the right person yet." He can't believe he's _still_ having this argument with his grandfather.

G-E-T-T-I-N-G-T-O-O-O-L-D.

"Not having this discussion," he mutters. "Can you please tell me what Frank's last name is?"

The planchette screeches against the wood of the board and spells out a series of numbers. "Grandpa, stop fucking around." The planchette freezes and no matter how much Mikey prods at it, it won't move.

"He's mad!" Gerard shouts from his room, and Mikey sighs.

"Sorry, Grandpa. I'm just a little freaked out by this whole thing." The planchette rattles and spells out S-S-N. "Oh, even better." It's Frank's social security number, which will get Mikey all kinds of information. "Thanks, Grandpa. Say hi to Grandpa Rush for me?"

F-U-C-K-Y-O-U, writes the planchette, and Mikey chuckles and puts away the board.

"He's still mad!" Gerard reports.

Mikey just goes back to his research.

Frank's last name is Iero, born in 1981 to an Italian-American family. Attended parochial school, got good grades, had a pretty normal childhood. Ended up in the newspaper at age eleven for starting a band that played at some junior high prom, caused a ruckus by performing music that promoted 'bad behavior' among the kids. 

Nothing more until he turned fourteen and then there were police reports and news articles about the brutal mass murder of his family.

"Oh, God," Mikey whispers, feeling a wave of nausea roll through him.

The police investigation quickly dead-ended with no evidence, no suspects and no arrests.

After that, Frank was remanded into the custody of child protective services and sent to St. Cecelia's Orphanage. He was there for three months before running away. The first time he was caught in Pittsburgh and brought back, the second time he escaped with a another orphan, Lindsey Ballato. Lindsey had come from a broken home. She'd been abandoned at the orphanage when she was ten, and her family disappeared. The authorities never found them. 

After that, the trail grew cold. They received citations for loitering, for public intoxication, for vagrancy over the years, but nothing recent. They'd learned, Frank and Lindsey, to stay under the radar, and they were careful.

Mikey taps at his lips, thinking.

* * *

The Full Moon Diner is better than most of the diners Lindsey's worked at. Patrick, the owner, treats her with respect, hasn't hit on her once, and they get their lunches for free. The food's nothing special, but it's hearty and filling. She watches to make sure Frank eats and hopes he puts on some weight; they both lost too much over the fall.

There are a few assholes that come in, try to smack her ass or touch her tits, call her 'honey' or 'sweetie'. Patrick told her to come and get him when that happens, and he always asks the customer to leave if he can't conduct himself like a gentleman. But most of the people who come into the Full Moon are just regular folk, who work hard and want coffee and pie. 

She keeps an eye out for Gifted people, but they don't seem to frequent the diner, much to Frank's disappointment. 

The days bleed into weeks and life settles into a routine. Sometimes they get woken up by loud, rhythmic squeaking from the room next door; Lindsey tries to burrow under the pillow while Frank laughs in resignation. "Working girls," he says, shaking his head, and they lay bets on how long the johns can last.

There's a tiny microwave and an equally tiny fridge in the room, so she sometimes goes to the closest grocery story to get fresh food, sandwiches fixings and fruits and veggies. Frank has a secret weakness for Pop-Tarts and pudding cups, so she always tries to get him some of those, even though they're outrageously expensive.

Lindsey enjoys just wandering around the store, where it's warm and safe and clean. Sometimes she pretends that she's someone normal, a girl living at home with her family, working at the diner while taking classes at the local community college, dreaming about moving to the big city and being an actress. Maybe she has a younger sister that she squabbles with, and a father who dotes on them both, and a dog, two cats, a hamster, and a turtle.

It's her secret daydream, and she's never told anyone. Not even Frank.

She has no memories of her family; her mind was a blank slate until she was ten. One day she woke up and she was in an orphanage and she couldn't remember anything. Not even her own name. When she was older, after she met Frank, they'd searched for her roots, and found them. 

Her family had been killed, much like Frank's, a year after she'd been abandoned at the orphanage. The investigation was long closed; no evidence, no suspects, no motive. There was some talk of human sacrifices and satanic cults, but it amounted to nothing but gossip and rumor. Frank had managed to get his hands on a copy of the police report, and Lindsey had shuffled through the papers, numb and sick to her stomach. She'd had nightmares for weeks afterward.

Sometimes it's better not to know.

The number of different brands of food confuses her. Really, it's peanut butter, ground up peanuts; how many kinds can there be. And in the end, aren't they all the same? She picks up two jars and compares them, and between the nutrients and the ingredients, they're identical. "I don't get it," she mutters, blowing hair off her face.

She puts both jars back on the shelf and realizes there's a guy ahead of her in the aisle, perusing the large selection of jellies and jams. He's dark-haired and pale, and wearing ripped jeans and a denim jacket over a tee shirt. 

He looks perfectly ordinary, except that he's _glowing_ , and it takes Lindsey a minute of staring to realize she's seeing his aura. He's Gifted, and Lindsey can Feel how powerful he is. His energy pulls at her, like a warm shelter against a snowstorm, and it confuses her. She's never felt anything similar to this before.

Lindsey's pretty sure that she should turn around and leave the store, just abandon her cart and go back to the Starlite, and tell Frank about him. She's convinced that this young man is part of the family of magic-users they're looking for. 

Lindsey's never been one to do what she should, though, so she tries to look innocent and harmless and accidentally bumps into the guy with her cart. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" She skirts around the cart and reaches out to touch his elbow, feigning concern.

The guy brushes at his leg where she bumped him. "No, no, it's fine, you didn't—" He jerks at her touch, like he was shocked, and when he glances at her for the first time he looks surprised.

His eyes are wide and bright hazel, his mouth a little crooked, and his chin is pointed. It's a face that shouldn't work, a little asymmetrical, features too delicate, but somehow it does. He's gorgeous. Lindsey feels her stomach tighten with nerves. "Hi, I'm Lindsey."

He doesn't say anything. He's frozen like a statue, and Lindsey's smile is starting to feel pasted on and forced. She's about to try again, maybe introduce herself when he sets down his basket, turns and walks away. Lindsey's left watching his retreating back.

"Well, that was interesting," she mutters wryly to herself. She's never had anyone run away from her like that, and she's torn between insult and amusement. "I didn't even get your name."

* * *

"I met her," Gerard says without preamble. He stands in the doorway of the library, and Mikey can see how upset he is.

"You okay?"

Gerard shrugs. "She didn't hurt me, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I'm asking if you are all right."

Gerard takes a long, deep breath. "No, no, I'm not." He wipes his hands on his pants, over and over, almost obsessively. "She's beautiful. "

Mikey nods. "Okay."

"She touched me and—" Gerard breaks off, closes his eyes. "She touched me and—"

Mikey waits, patient. It doesn't do any good to try to rush Gerard. 

"She touched me and I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her." He collapses onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. "What am I gonna do, Mikey?"

"Tell me what happened." He keeps his voice soft and soothing. Gerard's a jumble of emotions, terror and wonder and love bouncing around in his head.

"She touched me and I Saw our life together. We have a little girl, blonde curls and a bright smile, her name's Bandit. I Saw us grow old together. Mikey— I don't even know her and I love her." Gerard sounds so lost and forlorn; Mikey aches for him.

He sits next to Gerard and wraps his arm around Gerard's shoulders. "It's going to be okay, Gerard. We're going to figure this out, and everything is going to be okay."

Gerard leans his head on Mikey's shoulder and nods. "She's beautiful," he says a little dreamily. "Her hair is so black, and it's a little curly. She has the prettiest brown eyes, and they sparkled when she smiled at me. Oh, fuck, Mikey, I'm so screwed," he moans.

Mikey just smiles, feeling the heat of Gerard's embarrassment. "It's gonna be okay," he repeats.

He rubs Gerard's back and tells him what he's found out about Frank and Lindsey.

* * *

Something's bothering Gerard. He can't quite put his finger on it, but whatever it is it keeps raising the hair on the back of his neck. He rubs his arms to get rid of the goosebumps that keep breaking out. It makes him restless and he can't sleep. He paces in circles in his room. He thinks about bugging Mikey, but when he reaches out, it's obvious that Mikey's asleep.

Mikey surfaces enough to ask _?_ but Gerard just shushes him and Mikey slips back under.

Gerard goes outside, into the garden. It's cold, but Gerard uses his power to keep himself warm. There's a bench, but Gerard lies down on the winter-browned grass, looking up into the night sky. There's a lot of light pollution, but he can still see the twinkling of the stars if he looks hard enough.

He likes to imagine other worlds, jungles of weird colored plants, endless deserts, planets with oceans and no land. He wonders if somewhere, someone else is looking up at the stars and—

Gerard sits up abruptly, because someone is _here_. He can't see them, but he can Feel them as they walk the perimeter of the wards, testing for a way over, under, through them. He reaches out and it's the drawn man; instinctively he strengthens his shields, pulls them in tight.

_frank, my name is frank._

_i know_ , Gerard responds. The man—Frank—projects friendliness, and Gerard snorts. He's not an idiot.

Frank moves close enough to the wards that Gerard can see him now, and he rests his hand on the invisible barrier between them. It's creepy, almost inhuman, the focus that Frank has on getting _in_. "Your wards are nothing to me," he says, voice carrying on the night breeze. 

Gerard shrugs and lifts his chin up in defiance. "Then come and get me, motherfucker."

Frank doesn't say anything more, just fades back into the shadows. But he doesn't go, he just walks along the wards, searching for a weakness, a chink in the wall.

Toward dawn, Gerard Feels Frank push one last time against the wards before leaving. Once he's sure Frank is gone, he goes back inside and climbs into bed. It takes him a long, long time to fall asleep.

* * *

After Gerard's run-in with Frank, Mikey decides to take matters into his own hands. He stretches out his senses until he Feels Frank.

Frank's pretty heavily shielded, but Mikey can still sense a little of him; it's like looking through a foggy mirror, you can't make out the details but you can kinda guess at the overall shape of things.

His mind is a steady buzz of concentration and it's simple for Mikey to get into his old junker of a car and hit the road. It doesn't take him long to get to where he's going, it's the Full Moon Diner, and Frank's presence is strong here.

Mikey goes in and settles into a booth. It's late, and there's only a couple of people sitting at the counter, a few customers scattered in booths, nursing coffees. There's a young woman waiting tables, dark haired and pretty. She turns, and Mikey can see that she has a swirl of tattoos on her arm, bright colors and black lines. _Painted lady_ , he thinks. _Lindsey_.

She's beautiful, just like Gerard had described.

"Be right with you," she says, catching Mikey's eye. He nods and turns his coffee cup over, looks over the menu.

A few minutes later she comes to his table and pours coffee into his mug without asking. She sets the pot down on the table and pulls out her pad, standing hip-shot. "What can I get for you?" Around her neck is a thin white ribbon, and hanging from it is a tiny crystal athame, a ceremonial dagger often used in magical rituals.

Mikey smiles at her. "Can I get a slice of apple pie?"

"Sure thing. You want ice cream with that?"

"No, thanks," he says.

"Anything else I can get for you?"

"That's it." He meets her eyes, trying to understand her. She's open and honest, Mikey can feel the truth of her. So why is she with Frank, who is clearly neither open nor honest?

"Okay, be right back."

Mikey nods and sips at his coffee. The door to the kitchen swings open and a young man comes out. He's got a plastic tub and he starts bussing the empty tables. He's short, dark and wearing a stained apron. There's no way that it isn't Frank, and when Mikey reaches out, the man jerks his head up and stares at Mikey in surprise.

Their eyes meet and Mikey feels breathless, like he got punched in the gut. His first reaction is to _run_ , because this isn't what he asked for, isn't what he wants. He doesn't need this kind of complication in his life.

Frank finishes clearing off the table he's working on and carries the tub back into the kitchen. "'Trick, taking my lunch break," he says loud enough for Mikey to hear.

Mikey knows he has about thirty seconds before Frank comes back out, and he debates with himself: leave or stay. Leaving is safer, but he's sure that they're going to have a confrontation no matter what he does. This is the man that's threatening his home, his family, his power, and he's not going to stop if Mikey runs away.

It's not really a choice, in the end.

"Mikey, isn't it?"

"Yeah." His mouth is dry with nervousness, and his voice is a little rough. He takes another sip of the coffee, grimacing at the acrid taste.

"Coffee's pretty bad," Frank shrugs. 

Mikey gives a half-hearted laugh and looks at Frank, really _looks_ at him. He's compact, broad-shouldered and trim. His hair curls gently around his face, brushing past the neckline of his tee shirt. Tattoos cover every bit of exposed skin, but a bit of silver glints at his lip, nose, ears. His eyes are _knowing_ , like he senses how attracted Mikey is, and Mikey can't help the blush that sweeps across his cheeks.

"You don't look like your brother," Frank says. "Except around the eyes." 

"The resemblance is there, if you know where to look," Mikey answers. "And we're very similar in other ways."

"Oh?" Frank grins, turning on the charm. "What kinds of ways? Maybe I can buy you a slice of pie and you can tell me about yourself."

Just as Mikey's about to turn down Frank's offer, Lindsey slides his apple pie in front of him. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" She automatically tops off Mikey's coffee and flips over the mug in front of Frank, filling it up. "Frank?"

Frank shakes his head and drinks. "I'm fine."

"I'm good," Mikey agrees. "Thank you." 

Lindsey smiles and goes back to her other customers.

"So, Mikey—is that short for Michael? Tell me about yourself."

Mikey pushes up his glasses and Looks at Frank with his Gift. There's a darkness that overlays Frank's aura, faint and barely noticeable. It's like a sickness of spirit, something that's draining energy from him, a psychic parasite. Mikey's never Seen anything like it, but it disturbs him. Whatever it is, it's _wrong_ , and it's clear that it's sapping Frank's control. Mikey can see the anger that's seething right below the surface.

The amount of rage inside Frank is. . .appalling. That much negative energy—Mikey's not sure how Frank's hasn't burnt himself out.

"Maybe we can go someplace a little more private and talk, get to know each other." Frank's grin is appealing, and there's a part of Mikey that's enjoying the attention. He strokes his fingers along the back of Mikey's hand and Mikey shivers. The touch, brief as it is, thrums along his nerves and heats his blood. 

It's been a long time since someone as gorgeous as Frank flirted with him. But Mikey's self-aware enough to realize that this isn't about attraction.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think that's a good idea." The words taste bitter in his mouth.

"Oh?" Frank arches an eyebrow. "I promise your virtue is safe with me, Mikey."

Mikey flushes a little, and digs into his pie. "Let's be honest with each other. You want something, and it's not my virtue."

Frank leers a little and grabs his fork, stealing a bite of pie. "Not _just_ your virtue, anyway."

Mikey's heart skips a beat at that and he takes a deep breath, trying to bring his emotions back under control. It takes a minute, and he sets his fork down precisely on his napkin. Mikey leans forward a little, meeting Frank's eyes. "It'll be a cold fucking day in Hell before I let you hurt what's mine." He stands, drops some cash on the table and walks away.

He doesn't look back.

* * *

Frank has to admit he's a little disappointed that Mikey shut him down so hard. He hadn't expected Mikey Way to be tall and gorgeous, just a touch nerdy with his glasses and his spiky hair. It's been a while since Frank's managed to hook up; Mikey would be a tasty little distraction.

In spite of everything, Frank's not entirely convinced that that he still doesn't have a chance. He can Feel Mikey's interest and he's sure, with a little work, he can probably change Mikey's mind.

At least he hopes so. The fact that he'd be sleeping with the enemy just make it that much more of a sweet temptation.

He goes back into the kitchen and his endless pile of dishes. There's something soothing about the task; it doesn't require a lot of thought, so he can let his mind wander. He thinks back to his encounter with Mikey's brother, _Gerard_ , and the strength of the wards they'd built up around the source of their magic.

Frank couldn't break down the walls, couldn't even find a crack or gap in them, but he was sure it was a matter of time. He'd never met a wall he couldn't batter down, eventually. He's stubborn like that.

Lindsey comes back into the kitchen and nudges him. "Cigarette break?"

"Yeah," Frank says, wiping his hands dry on his apron. "'Trick—"

"Go," Patrick says, waving from his office. "Go indulge in your unhealthy vices while I slave over invoices and credit card transactions."

"We will," Lindsey says, and they take off out the back door. There's an alley behind the Full Moon, with a dumpster and a pile of cardboard boxes. They have to be careful with the dumpster; there are feral cats around and sometimes when you throw garbage into the dumpster, an angry cat comes flying out.

Lindsey lights a cigarette and hands the pack over to Frank, who digs his own lighter out of his pocket. "Who _was_ that?"

"That," Frank says, taking a drag off his cigarette, "was the brother of your pretty grocery store boy. Mikey."

"He's not _my_ grocery store boy."

Frank just grins at her, because he knows her.

"You seemed pretty into him," Lindsey says, blowing a careful smoke ring. "Though he left in a hurry."

Shrugging, Frank flicks away his cigarette butt. "I wouldn't mind hitting that. But it's going to take a bit of work. He's on guard."

"Yeah, I imagine so." Lindsey smokes in silence, until she drops her cigarette to the ground and steps on it, twisting her foot a little. "Tell me why we're doing this again." Her voice is soft, the words small.

Frank struggles to breath deep against the tightness in his chest. "My family. Yours."

* * *

Mikey and Gerard become a fixture around the Full Moon; Lindsey's sure it's more due to Frank and herself rather than the quality of pie and coffee.

Frank flirts shamelessly with Mikey, ignoring Gerard's sour faces and increasingly hostile glances. Lindsey tries to treat Mikey and Gerard like any of her other customers, but she can't lie to herself about how Gerard makes her feel when he's around: breathless and excited, like a teenager with a crush. 

It makes her clumsy when he's around; she drops plates and the sound of shattering ceramic draws every eye to her. She's sure she looks like a ham-fisted idiot. Frank just comes out with a broom and teases her about one less dish to wash.

When she refills Gerard's coffee cup, he thanks her softly, meeting her eyes shyly. She notices that there's a single braid in his hair, with a flower wound through the strands. "Uh, you've got a—" She gestures to the side of her own head.

"What?" He looks adorably confused, patting at his hair until— "Oh, fuck, I forgot about that." He blushes. "Little cousins," he says, rolling his eyes.

Lindsey feels daring as she reaches out and touches the braid. "I like it," she says quietly. 

Gerard ducks his head and Lindsey goes to wait on another customer.

Later, Lindsey and Frank argue.

"I don't think it's right that you're toying with Mikey like this. If you don't have any real interest in being with him, then stop flirting."

Frank scoffs. "Look who's talking. I've seen the way you look at Gerard."

"But I make sure not to lead him on."

"What difference does it make if I fuck him or not? In the end, we're going to destroy the touchstone of their power and neither of them will remember a thing."

Lindsey feels like she's seeing Frank for the first time. "It matters because it's not the right thing to do."

"Lindsey." Frank's frustrated, verging on angry; she knows the signs. "We're the good guys, here. They're the bad guys."

"And that makes it okay to be cruel?" She shakes her head and drops into the rickety easy chair that's shoved into the corner of their room at the Starlite. "I feel like I don't know you anymore."

Frank stills, and the tension rises. "What do you mean?" The words are measured.

"There's a darkness in you. It's always been there, from the day I met you. But it's growing—" Lindsey takes a slow breath. "It scares me." She looks at him and his eyes are wide. "I've always believed in you, trusted you. You showed me how to control myself so I stopped hurting people with my abilities and that's something that's very important to me.

"But I'm starting to wonder about what we're doing, and if it's the right thing."

Frank drops to his knees next to Lindsey and rests his head in her lap. Her fingers automatically thread through his hair, brushing it back away from his face.

"Linds, you're the only person I have," he whispers.

It's true, they only have each other. And maybe that's part of the problem.

When she finally falls asleep that night, she dreams of Gerard.

( _They're outside, under a tree, and the grass is lush and green; it tickles her skin. The moon is bright enough that she can see his face, eager and a little reverent._

_His long fingers trace over her lips, down her neck, and up the peak of her breast, teasing the nipple. She can't look away, mesmerized by the touch that makes her tense her thighs against the ache between them. He leans close, mouth hovering over the hard nub, just letting his warm breath puff against her._

_Lindsey curls his hands into fists to keep from reaching up and tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth to where she needs it, against her breasts and her cunt. She wants his mouth so badly, wants him to suck on her nipple and leave bite marks on her neck and bury his face between her legs, losing himself in her wetness._

_"Please," she whispers, and he laughs softly before taking her nipple between his teeth and biting. The sting makes her back arch and pulls a surprised sound out of her._

_"Please what?" he asks, and nuzzles at the spot between her breasts, pressing a kiss there. "Tell me what you want, what you need." He drags his mouth lower, leaving behind a trail of dampness that sends shivers over her skin._

_"Oh, fuck," she hisses. She clutches at his shoulders and pushes him down, and she can feel him opening her up with his thumbs._

_"Greedy," he murmurs, and licks her with the flat of his tongue, and it feels so good, warmth spreading out and she can't hold back the moan—_ )

Lindsey wakes up with a loud gasp, and it takes a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, for her to realize where she is. Frank's a warm presence next to her, softly snoring, and she rolls away from him, clutching a pillow to her stomach. She's so aroused that it _hurts_ , her cunt is wet and swollen and she wants to cry.

It's a long time before she manages to fall back asleep.

* * *

Gerard wakes up, and it takes him a minute to figure out what woke him. It's Frank, Gerard can feel him testing the wards, pushing hard and still searching for a weakness. "Motherfucker," he mutters. He pushes his feet into his Chucks and picks up his hoodie from the floor, zipping it up and pulling the hood over his head.

Frank's waiting, idly kicking at nothing, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

"What do you want?" Gerard growls.

"You know what I want," Frank replies. He touches the barrier and Gerard doesn't let himself flinch from the _surge_ of Frank's power.

"Not happening."

Frank shrugs. "Just giving you a chance to let me in without a fight."

Gerard can't believe how cocky Frank is. "Yeah, still not happening. You want in, you're gonna have to work for it."

"I'm in no rush." He smirks. "Especially when I have your brother to distract me."

The anger blinds him for a moment. His fists are clenched and if there weren't a physical barrier between them, Gerard would be on him, punching that look off his face. "If you fucking touch him I'll—"

"Gerard—"

Gerard jumps and spins around, because he'd been so intent on Frank that he hadn't noticed Mikey's approach. He's wearing a ratty bathrobe and his fuzzy slippers, and Gerard can Feel Frank's amusement.

"It's okay," Mikey says, squeezing his arm, and Gerard wants to laugh, because this is as far away from okay as things can get. "Hello, Frank."

Gerard tries not to be obvious about keeping himself between Mikey and Frank. He's not fooling Mikey, because Mikey's laughing at him, Gerard can Feel it, but he doesn't care. He doesn't trust Frank's interest in Mikey. He doesn't trust Frank.

"Hello, Mikey. Nice slippers."

Mikey lifts up a foot and stares at it. "They're comfortable."

"I bet." Frank shifts, trying to get a better of view of Mikey, but Gerard shifts as well. Frank rolls his eyes. "They're having a zombie movie festival down at the dollar theater and I was wondering if you'd be interested in going."

"He's can't go, he's busy." Gerard doesn't hesitate.

Frank looks at him, and the anger in his eyes almost makes Gerard take a step back. "I was talking to your brother, Gerard."

Mikey nudges at Gerard with an elbow. "Sorry, Gerard's right, I've got a lot on my plate right now." 

Gerard can Feel the regret at the edge of Mikey's thoughts, because he does want to spend time with Frank, wants to get to know him better, and wants to learn what makes him tick. But he's too dangerous, and Mikey's very aware of that.

"Ah, well, maybe next time," Frank says, philosophically. "Sooner or later, you'll say 'yes.' "

"What I say 'yes' to might just surprise you," Mikey says, grinning.

Gerard shifts again, trying to remind Mikey of what's at stake. This is deadly serious, and Mikey shouldn't be joking around like this.

_i got this._

Gerard has his doubts, but he reminds himself how strong Mikey is. He has to trust that Mikey knows what he's doing.

* * *

"What do you hope to accomplish by destroying our Heart?" Mikey asks. He Feels the surprise from both Gerard and Frank. "It's just a neutral source of power."

"You're wrong," Frank says. His voice is rough. "So wrong. The magic hurts people, wrecks families. I just want to keep people safe."

Mikey is confused. "Safe from _what_?" Magic is only a tool. How a person uses the magic, what their intent is, that's where the good or bad comes in.

"Safe from things that we're not supposed to know about, things beyond the ken of humans." The shadows on Frank's face shift. "Demons." His eyes glint, and there's something, _someone_ else behind Frank's eyes, a dark presence unlike anything Mikey has Felt before.

He recoils, and Gerard does the same. 

"Long before humans evolved to walk upright the world was home to powerful beings who found refuge here. Some were good and some were not, and over time the evil were banished using the power of the nodes. Hearts, you call them. Using those same nodes, those demons are being brought back to life."

"And when they're freed, they destroy, they kill and hurt." Frank's voice drops, and Mikey shivers when he sees the raw hunger on his face. His aura dims, like a cloud passing in front of the moon.

_what the fuck?_

Frank whips his head toward Gerard, like he heard the thought. He licks his lips and smiles, showing teeth. They look sharp.

Gerard backs up a step, bumping into Mikey. The touch settles them both a little. Mikey knows Gerard's afraid; he's pretty fucking terrified himself. But their wards stay strong

"Goodnight, Frank," Mikey says, and holds his breath while Frank hesitates. After a moment, Frank dips his head in a nod before turning away. They wait until they can't sense Frank anymore, and then the collapse on the grass.

Gerard's hands are shaking as he tries to light a cigarette. "What the fuck, Mikey?" he repeats. "What was that?" He gets his cigarette lit after some effort and takes a deep drag.

Mikey holds out his hands and is proud of himself, they're steady as a rock. "I don't know." He looks at Gerard. "But we're gonna find out." 

"Okay," Gerard breathes, "okay." He runs his hand through his hair, making it stick up worse than usual.

They go back to the library, but now that they have an idea of what they're looking for, it's easier to narrow down their search. Gerard takes over the book end of things, because his memory for trivia is amazing. He uses the ladder to get down some of the oldest books in their library, books that the Breithiúna have been trying to get their hands on for years. They're family heirlooms, though, so the Way-Rush family isn't about to let them go.

Besides, sometimes they come in handy.

Mikey, on the other hand, is an absolute genius when it comes to the internet. He's good at searches, and coaxing hidden research materials out of universities. He has a strong synchronic ability, which lets him connect unrelated things with a series of searches. Combined with Gerard's intuition, it isn't long before they start to find answers.

"Look here," Gerard says, pointing to a page in their copy of _Encyclopedia Magica_ from the 18th century. "It talks about Gifted 'not being their true selves' and a 'darkness mantling their souls.'

" 'The darkness may be driven from those unfortunate enough to be afflicted, but it takes much power. And often, those Gifted are damaged, sometimes beyond healing.' That does not sound promising."

"Hmmm." Mikey skims over a scanned document from the 30's. "Yeah, here's a first person account of a Gifted being possessed by a 'dark force' and her family getting together to drive it out of her. 'The dark power had no form, only shadows and a pair of malevolently glowing eyes. It attacked the brethren and only by the barest of margins did they manage to destroy it, at the cost of three Gifted lives.' "

"Well, at least we've gotten confirmation that there is _something_ influencing Frank, and that it can be destroyed. That's a start." 

It was a relief to realize that there _was_ an answer. "I think it feeds off Frank's anger." 

"Oh?" Gerard raises an eyebrow.

"Frank has some. . .issues." 

Gerard snorted. "You think?" He sighed. "Probably should let the Breithiúna know what's going on, so if things don't work out so well for us, they'll have an idea of what's going on."

Mikey looks at him, frowning. They're going to be fine. 

"Just in case," Gerard says, rolling his eyes. "We're going to kick the ass of that _thing_ , no question. Destroy it, banish it to wherever it came from, kill it. Whatever."

"All right," Mikey says, and he can't hide his reluctance. "But after I get some sleep." He yawns. 

"Yeah. Sleep's a great idea."

* * *

Frank finds himself at the door to their room at the Starlite, and he honestly has no idea how he got here or where he's been. It's his day off, and it's late, almost his usual bedtime. But. . .

He goes inside; Lindsey's curled up in the chair, reading a book from the local library. They'd almost been denied a library card, something about them not living in an actual apartment or house, but Patrick had gone to bat for them, and so there was a pile of books that they were making their way through in their off hours.

"How was your walk?" she asks, closing her book and looking at him curiously.

"Walk?"

"Yeah, you said you were feeling ansty and were going for a walk."

"Hmmm." He sits down on the bed and unties his shoes. Lindsey isn't saying anything, just staring at the cover of her book, tracing the title over and over with her finger. "Linds? What are you thinking about?"

She shrugs. "You don't remember." It's not a question.

"It's been a long week, and stressful." One of their cooks had quit, so Frank had ended up pulling a few double shifts, alternating between dish washing and cooking. "Stress can fuck with your memory." 

"Yeah," she agrees, but Frank can Feel her doubt.

"You don't think it's that." It's not a question.

"No." She bites at her lip. "I don't."

"Well, what do you think it is, then?"

"You make people forget, when we destroy the nodes. I'm wondering if the darkness inside you makes _you_ forget, too."

"Don't be ridiculous," he says quickly, because it's not true. The idea makes his stomach flip and he swallows hard against the nausea. He grabs his pajamas from the drawer and slips in the bathroom to change. He can hear Lindsey moving around in the room, getting ready for bed.

When he's done brushing his teeth, Lindsey's already in bed, the lights out. He can hear her breathing, knows that she's not asleep, but he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how he can reassure her. "Goodnight, Linds."

"Goodnight, Frankie."

* * *

Lindsey gets up long before Frank, dresses and leaves the room. She walks down to the Full Moon, nurses her coffee for a while, wondering what to do with herself. She doesn't want to be around Frank right now, because she's uncertain about what's been going on.

She can tell when people aren't telling the truth, it's always been something she's been able to do. She knows that Frank hasn't been lying to her, exactly, but she has a lot of questions that she doesn't have answers for.

Lindsey's a little disappointed in herself because she never thought to ask these questions before. She'd been content to drift, to follow Frank and not look _deeper_ at what was going on around them.

It's chilly, but the sun is shining, so she walks aimlessly for a while, seeing parts of Belleville she's never seen before. It's nice. After a while, a car starts to follow her, and she's huffs to herself. Of course some asshole's gonna come up and start harassing her—

"Hey, do you need a ride?" 

She smiles, because it's Gerard. She looks at him and he's leaning across the passenger seat, wearing the most ridiculously large sunglasses she's ever seen. "Maybe," she says, and watches as he drives a little ahead of her and pulls over. He gets out of his car, a junker with a some rust, and approaches her.

"Where are you heading?"

Lindsey shakes her head. "I was just walking. Nice day."

He looks up at the sky dubiously. "Sorta."

She can't help but laugh.

Gerard pushes his sunglasses on top of his head and smiles uncertainly. "I could maybe drive you around, show you the sights. We could talk."

The idea is appealing, and she nods. "That would be nice."

Gerard holds open the door for her, and makes sure she's buckled in before starting up the car. In spite of its shoddy outer appearance, the car's engine purrs and the inside is clean and uncluttered. "I was visiting my great aunt, her husband passed last year and her kids are all grown. She gets lonely, so me and Mikey try to go see her at least once a week." He slants a glance at her. "She made me some cookies, if you're interested."

"What kind?" She wants to be surprised at Gerard's thoughtfulness, tries to keep it clear in her mind that he's the enemy, but she just can't do it.

"Chocolate chip."

"Oh, my favorite!"

"Mine, too," he says, and indicates the plastic container on the floor by her feet. "Help yourself. They're better with milk, of course. If you insist on the full chocolate chip cookie experience, there's milk at home."

She opens the container and inhales. They're still a little warm and smell delicious. She takes one, and carefully closes the container. Her heart beats faster, but she can't stop grinning. "I insist on the full chocolate chip cookie experience. Lead me to the milk." She takes a bite out of the cookie she has and can't contain a small moan. "Oh, God, that's good."

"Home it is, then," Gerard says, and flips his blinker to turn right. Gerard's mostly a careful driver, a little aggressive, but nothing that bad. Lindsey suspects that he's on his best behavior, which is the sweetest thing.

He drives to an older neighborhood, a little off the beaten path. The houses are larger, spaced further apart, and at the end of the road is a charming Victorian house. It's painted blue and green, and is surrounded by trees. It looks like a home.

"Pretty," she says as Gerard opens her door.

"Four generations of my family have lived here." He touches the small of her back, leading her up the small flight of stairs onto the porch and just as he reaches out for the knob, the door swings open. "Mikey." He doesn't seem surprised to find his brother looming in the doorway. "You remember Lindsey?"

* * *

Mikey nods to Lindsey, serious and somber, and Gerard wants to kick him in the shin.

"Hello again," he says.

Gerard blows his bangs out of his face and holds up the container of cookies. "From Aunt Marie."

"How is she?" Mikey reaches out to take the container and Gerard pulls it away. There's no way he's handing the cookies over to Mikey.

"She's alright." He waggles his eyebrows at Mikey, which makes Lindsey stifle a giggle. "Lindsey and I came home so we could have some milk with our cookies."

"Are you sure?" 

Gerard knows Mikey's not talking about cookies anymore. His face is serious and worried, but Gerard doesn't know how to reassure him. "She's not the enemy, Mikey."

Mikey looks at Lindsey, examining her aura, and he probably Sees the same things Gerard does, an open, honest, _good_ soul. "All right," he says, opening the door and letting them in.

They sit at the kitchen table, the three of them, dunking their cookies into their glasses of milk. They don't talk much, but it doesn't feel strained or awkward. Eventually, Gerard is sure he can't eat another cookie without exploding, and he puts his empty glass in the sink. 

"Would you like to see our Heart?" he asks. Mikey sighs loudly; he knows how impulsive Gerard can be.

Lindsey looks comically surprised, but after a moment she nods. "Yes, I would."

Gerard takes her hand and takes her out the back door, into the garden. He pats the willow tree as he passes and leads Lindsey to the Heart. 

It's a small stone slab, a couple of feet across, roughly circular, embedded in the ground. It's unremarkable, and could easily pass for a gravestone, except for the lack of markings.

Gerard sinks to the ground, pulling Lindsey with him. "You ever see how they harvest maple syrup? When they put those spigots into the tree and the tree sap drips out, then they boil that down until its concentrated into syrup?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'm kinda hooked on nature shows."

"Hearts are just like those spigots. They tap into the magical energy that exists in the world, and makes it easier to use that energy. You don't need a Heart to draw on that power, but it's so much easier if you do." He wrapped his hand around Lindsey's wrist and pressed her palm against the rough texture of the Heart. "Feel that?"

Lindsey closes her eyes and Gerard can Feel her concentrating. The Heart thrums under her touch and Gerard smiles.

"Yes," she whispers. "So much energy."

"Yes," Gerard nods. "Magic is a tool, neutral in intent. The user is the one who gives the magic a purpose. It's like any other natural resource. It's _people_ who use magic for good or evil and everything in between." Gerard pulls on the energy and it flows into Lindsey. "You're very powerful," he murmurs. "The green magics, those related to the natural world, those are your strength."

"I've never learned how to use them. Just how to turn them on and off, to help Frank and to keep from hurting people." She looks apologetic. "When I was younger, I hurt people. Frank says it's because the magic is inherently evil."

"Frank. . .has some odd notions." Gerard can feel the way her magic controls her, and not the other way around. "You need to learn discipline, because it's dangerous for your magic to run wild, as powerful as you are." 

"I want to learn." She's determined. "I don't want to hurt anyone ever again."

"Okay." He pauses and looks at her. "Thank you for trusting me." He knows Frank is family to her, and how hard it must be to believe what Gerard's said.

She leans close and presses her lips to his. "Show me."

Gerard does. He walks her through the first lessons that he learned at his nana's knee, when he was five years old, about opening himself up to the Heart, and controlling the flow of power. He shows her how to narrow the draw of the flow to increase the speed, and how to do the opposite.

"The hardest thing is controlling yourself when you're in the grip of strong emotions. You're grown, so you won't have to struggle with your magic while in the grips of puberty." She laughs and he grins wryly. "You have no idea how lucky you are to be skipping over that. There was a three month period where I conjured rabbits every time I slept. We were overrun."

She looks up at the sky, then at her watch. "It's getting late and I should go home," Lindsey says. "You've given me a lot to think about."

She's hesitant, and Gerard understands. Everything he's taught her almost directly contradicts what Frank has told her over the years. She needs time away from him to process.

"Listen, you can stay the night here. We've got a guest room and everything, and you can relax and not worry about anything." Gerard is trying not to be too creepy about it. He's not sure he's succeeding. 

"Oh, I couldn't—"

The window that looks over the willow slams open and Donna's dyed blonde crown of hair is visible behind the screening. "Gee, you tell that girl I'm officially inviting her to stay, and it'd be rude of her to turn us down." She shuts the window and disappears.

"Ah, sorry, my ma—well, she's pretty sensitive and it's hard to hide anything from her, it really sucked when Mikey and I were kids and—" He's babbling, and he can't seem to stop. "She means well, and she won't really be mad if you don't—"

"Gee?" It's the first time she's used his nickname, the one only his family ever uses, and it makes him feel warm inside.

"Yeah?"

"I would love to stay." Her smile is sweet and Gerard leans forward to kiss her again.

* * *

Donna Way welcomes Lindsey into their home. She hugs Lindsey, scolds her gently for even thinking of going home before dinner, and makes her sit down at the kitchen table while she bustles around making food. Gerard disappears, leaving her to Donna's tender mercies. 

Donna is every stereotype Lindsey has ever imagined for a Jersey mom. She's brash, with a thick accent. Her hair is teased high and her nails are painted bright blue and Lindsey suspects she has at least one leopard print blouse in her closet with matching capris.

"I'm not the world's best cook, but my mom made sure I could get by. You good with lasagne? Have any food allergies or dislikes? Mikey, my baby, he hates refried beans for some reason. Which, I can kind of understand. Mashed up beans. Who came up with the idea?" She shakes her head. "Luckily for him, the amount of Mexican cooking I do is pretty close to zero. Well, tacos, but who makes taco with refried beans? Not me."

Lindsey rests her chin in her hands and watches Donna putter around, pulling out a casserole dish from the freezer.

"My ma taught me to always have a batch of lasagna ready to go in the freezer in case of unexpected guests." She smiles at Lindsey. "Now Gerard, that boy hates olives." She shrugs. "He swears up and down there was some kind of traumatic olive incident when he was small, but I don't remember anything like that, and he tends to be melodramatic sometimes."

"Ma, _please_ don't tell Lindsey that." Gerard pokes his head into the kitchen. "I'm trying to impress her."

Lindsey can't help giggling. 

"I'm going to go hide all of the photo albums, because I don't think we need to subject Lindsey to _that_ as well." He leaves them alone again.

Donna winks at Lindsey. "Whatever you say, dear." She slides the lasagna into the oven and wipes her hands on a dishrag. "Something to drink, Lindsey?"

"Oh." Lindsey sits up a little. "Some water would be nice." 

She pours Lindsey a glass water and sits down at the table with her. "I'll make some coffee in a little bit; the boys will insist on it." She pats Lindsey's hand. "Tell me about yourself, Lindsey. You have family around here?"

Lindsey looks down at her hands for a long moment. "No, ma'am. I have an aunt that lives in upstate New York, but that's it."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry. Losing family is always difficult."

She just nods, because Donna is right. 

"Well," Donna says, getting back to her feet. "Just consider yourself part of our family."

Lindsey doesn't know what to say to that, because Donna doesn't know her, has no idea the things she's done, and she's welcoming Lindsey anyway.

"Oh, child, I don't need to know the details," Donna snorts. "I can See that you've got a good heart. That's all I need to know."

Lindsey surprises herself by bursting into tears. Donna immediately gathers her into a hug, and Lindsey lets herself go, sobbing hopelessly against Donna's chest. She misses her family, even if she can't remember them, and Donna's unconditional acceptance of her is an unexpected gift.

Donna pets her hair and shushes her. "It's okay, sweetheart. Everything's going to be all right."

* * *

Dinner is a circus, as usual. It amuses Mikey to watch Gerard try to be on his best behavior for Lindsey, while the rest of the family is just business as usual. In addition to his parents, his grandmother, himself, Gerard and Lindsey, there's also two of the younger cousins, Jenny and James, and an uncle over for dinner. 

It's loud and confusing, with arguments about football, complaints about politicians, and discussions of local and current events. The cousins tease Gerard about being a nerd after he mentions Lord of the Rings and Uncle Joe asks Mikey about his recent romantic escapades.

Mikey just rolls his eyes and changes the subject. "What do you think about the construction they're doing on Union?" It's like a conversational red herring, talking about Belleville's streets, because _everyone_ has strong opinions about the sorry state of the roads.

Lindsey seems a little overwhelmed, but she's smiling and happy. Mikey can admit, to himself at least, to being a little jealous. Lindsey and Gerard are ridiculously sweet together, and there's something about watching two people fall in love that's just extraordinary.

He tries not to think of Frank, and how he makes Mikey feel.

Mikey's restless, so after dinner he goes for an aimless drive and ends up at a public playground that's near the high school he and Gerard went to. He climbs on the jungle gym and stares at the distant lights of the city. He's never had the urge to leave home, to travel and see new things. Gerard did; he went to college in New York and it'd been a whirlwind of new experiences.

Maybe now's the time to explore the world for a while. There's so much out there that he hasn't ever seen.

He drifts over to the carousel and lies between the bars, sets it to slowly spinning, with just an occasion kick to keep it going. Mikey's never been in love, not really. He's had crushes, and he dated for a while, but things never really clicked. And now he's met someone who makes him feel alive and giddy and ridiculous, all those silly things that you feel when you're in love, and it's someone he can't have. "Fuck." It's not fair.

It's cold and Mikey shivers. He should go home and go to bed, stop whining. As much as Frank feels like the person he's supposed to spend the rest of his life with, he could be wrong. Maybe he needs to give one of those on-line dating services a try. 

"Nah, you never find anyone good on those things."

Mikey sits up, because of _course_ it's Frank. He can't even mope in peace. "Hello, Frank."

"Hi there, gorgeous." Frank's smile is bright.

"Wow, does that really work for you?"

"Oh, no, Mikey, don't even get me started. I have some truly atrocious pick up lines. You don't know what you're missing out on."

He squints at Frank dubiously. "Uh-huh."

"I can tell you don't believe me, so. . ." He clears his throat dramatically. "You must be from Tennessee, because you're the only ten I see."

"Oh my God." Mikey can't stop his eyes from rolling. "That's really terrible."

"Hey, baby, wanna sit on my lap? We can talk about the first thing that pops up."

Mikey groans.

"And my favorite: I may not be Fred Flintstone, but I'm gonna make your bed rock."

Mikey shudders. "Stop, please, I give, no more—"

Frank laughs and sits down on the carousel, shoulders brushing Mikey's. "Told you."

"Well, next time I'll believe you. I had no idea that such bad pickup lines even existed."

"You need to get out more," Frank says.

"Obviously." It's torture, sitting next to Frank like this. Mikey wants to touch him, hold his hand, nuzzle at his neck, kiss him. And more. He wants everything, greedy thing that he is.

"You can have it," Frank whispers. "You can have me."

Mikey wishes that was true. But it's not. "I don't think it's in my best interest to sleep with the guy who's trying to destroy my family."

"Not your family, Mikey. Just that fucking stone."

"That fucking stone is part of my family." Mikey Feels the moment that Frank's patience runs out, and he leans forward and kisses Mikey. There's nothing romantic or sweet about the kiss, it's rough and forceful. Mikey tries to pull away, but Frank has a handful of his hair and keeps him close, licking at Mikey's mouth and asking to be let in.

Mikey can only resist for a little bit, because he's wanted this.

They kiss, tasting and exploring, until Mikey has to pull away to breathe. Frank takes advantage of the situation and trails biting kisses down Mikey's neck, back up to his jawline, nipping at the lobe of his ear.

"Fuck," Mikey moans. He leans back, pulling Frank on top of him, and he can't tell if the carousel is actually still spinning or if it's just the way Frank's making him feel. He spreads his legs and presses against the small of Frank's back with his hands, bringing their bodies together. 

"You must be Jamaican because Jamaican me crazy."

It takes a minute for the words to filter through Mikey's lust-hazed brain, but when they do, he cracks up laughing. He can feel Frank smiling against the side of his face and fuck, he knows what they're doing is insane but he can't stop. Frank's hand creeps between them and starts working at the button and zipper of Mikey's jeans, and it spurs him to action. He fumbles with Frank's belt, and then Frank's button fly jeans, wondering why the fuck anyone would choose to wear them. It takes forever to get them undone, and Frank's ahead of him, hand in Mikey's shorts and wrapping his fingers around Mikey's dick.

"If you and I were squirrels, could I bust a nut in your hole?"

Mikey makes a squawking sound, and tries to pull Frank's hand out of his pants. "No, no, if you're gonna insist on bad pickup lines you don't get to put your hand in there."

"Okay, no more pickup lines, I swear. Just let me touch you—" Frank sounds as strung out as Mikey feels.

Letting go of Frank's wrist, Mikey goes back to wrestling with Frank's jeans. "Fucking fuck," he curses, because it's hard to concentrate on anything except the feel of Frank stroking his cock, starting out slow and careful. He cries out in triumph when the last button on Frank's jeans gives. And of course, Frank's going commando, and his dick is right there, hot and hard. Mikey doesn't hesitate, just grabs and goes. 

They're both too desperate to take their time. It's like a race to the finish, Frank spitting in his hand to make things slicker and Mikey not needing to, because Frank's already wet enough. They bite back their moans and gasps, but Frank can't help but mutter filthy things under his breath, and it makes Mikey arch his back and rut harder into Frank's hand.

Mikey's orgasm hits him like a sledgehammer, and he can Feel it echoing through Frank, dragging them both under a wave of pleasure. They lie there panting for a long time, Frank boneless atop Mikey, before Frank mutters, "Your daddy must be a drug dealer, 'cause you're dope."

Mikey just laughs tiredly and touches Frank's mouth, rubbing his thumb across Frank's bottom lip before shutting his eyes.

They doze for a little while, until the wind picks up and they both start shivering. Mikey puts himself back together, wiping his hand on his jeans and zipping up. Frank does the same and doesn't meet Mikey's eyes.

It makes Mikey ache, because he can't have this, can't have Frank. And he doesn't know how to deal with that. "I wish things were different."

Frank looks at him for a long time. "You don't understand how many lives have been destroyed by magic. It killed my family, and Lindsey's, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep it from destroying more families." He gets up and walks away.

Mikey watches him disappear into the night.

* * *

By the time Frank gets back to the Starlite, he's calmed down a little. He's not angry at Mikey any more, just. . .resigned.

He wants Mikey, wants to be allowed to be in love, have a normal life and adopt a bunch of dogs. A nine-to-five job, a mortgage, meeting friends at the bowling alley on Friday nights for a couple of games and some beers. Frank wants it so much that it makes his chest ache to think about it.

But he knows he can't have that ordinary life.

Every time Frank closes his eyes, he sees Mikey and the way he smiles that just makes him hurt even more. 

He needs to finish what he came to do and _go_ , get the hell out of Jersey and forget all about the way Mikey makes him feel inside.

Frank pulls out the bottle of cheap whiskey that he pretends to hide from Lindsey and pours himself a glass. He digs out his backpack and pulls out the bandana-wrapped bundle from the bottom. He curls on the bed and opens the package up with shaking fingers.

They're pictures, photos, all that he has left of his family. He looks at each one for a while, remembering the moment that's captured on film as best as he can. His seventh birthday party, with the pumpkin cake and the trip to the haunted house that scared him so badly that he almost peed his pants. The first day of elementary school. His parents' wedding anniversary, when they dressed up in their original wedding outfits and renewed their vows. The day he decided to make mud pies in the backyard. The puppy his parents got for him; he'd named her Sweet Pea and she'd been his best friend and constant companion.

It hurts so much to reminisce, the whiskey doesn't come close to blurring the pain, but he keeps flipping through the photographs. He needs to be reminded why he can't have what he wants. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes, but the tears keep falling.

He doesn't remember passing out.

* * *

It's dark and shadowed, and Mikey quietly shuts the back door behind him.

Mikey knows that if his parents wake up, he'll be in so much trouble for sneaking out, but he couldn't help it; there was no way he was going to miss out on seeing the Misfits. He'd mowed lawns for weeks to get the money to buy his ticket, and he still couldn't believe his parents said 'no' because it was a school night.

Whatever. Even if he gets caught and gets grounded for the rest of his life, it was still totally worth it. It was the Misfits, for fuck's sake. Okay, maybe it was a little different without Danzig, but he couldn't help that. It was still a sweet show; Mikey can feel a bunch of spots where he's going to have bruises from bouncing around in the pit. 

When he's legal, he's totally going to get the Misfits' logo tattooed somewhere. Maybe on his leg. He walks down the hallway, carefully avoiding the two floorboards that squeak and starting up the stairs. He has to pause and swallow his panic when the grandfather clock startles him by chiming the hour, and like he always does, he counts each _bong_ from the clock. _One, two, three, four._

It's later than he thought, and tomorrow is going to be hell at school. Still, no regrets. He gets to the top of the stairs and freezes, because the door to his parents' bedroom is open, and that's not right. Mikey listens with his whole body, maybe his mom or dad got up to get water, or a snack. Maybe they heard a noise, the sound of him sneaking back in, and went to check it out.

Mikey doesn't hear anything from downstairs, so he wonders if his parents just forgot to shut the door. He creeps closer, confused because the his parents' room seems darker, more shadowed than it usually is. And he can hear something, not the steady sound of his mom's breathing, or his dad's loud snores, but something else.

Something wet and sucking, and it sends unpleasant shivers down Mikey's back. There's a smell, too, coppery and fetid, and it makes Mikey gag a little, it's so strong. Mikey moves closer, and he hears more, loud chewing and swallowing and he can't figure out what's going on. His eyes aren't adjusting to the darkness, and he can't see anything.

"Mom? Dad?" His voice is a whisper, barely audible, and the noises don't stop. He reaches out and finds the light switch on the wall. His parents are going to kill him for waking them up and then he's going to be grounded forever for sneaking out.

There's a greedy grunting sound, like he imagines a pig would make, and his hand's shaking. His parents probably found out that he'd snuck out and are playing a practical joke on him, but it's not funny. At all.

"Guys—" Mikey flips the switch, and there's darkness, and blood, and he screams and screams and—

—he falls out of his bed, waking up, his stomach heaving. He barely manages to scramble to the bathroom before he retches into the toilet, the stink of blood still heavy in his nose. He gasps for air, shaking, and when there's nothing left in his stomach, he dry heaves for a while.

"Mikey?" he hears Gerard whisper, and drops next to him, rubbing at his back. "You okay?"

Mikey gulps for air and rests his head against the hand braced on the toilet, trying to close his eyes against the images that are burned into his mind.

"Mikes?" Gerard's worried, and Mikey knows it won't do any good to claim that he's all right. He's pretty sure, after experiencing what Frank went through, he's not going to ever be all right again.

"Got stuck in Frank's head," he gasps, wiping at the tears that are streaking his face. "Dreamed, or remembered, finding his parents after the demon-thing killed them." Suddenly the police reports make sense. He shudders.

"Oh, fuck," Gerard says, and pulls Mikey into his lap. Mikey's long and lanky, but they make it work somehow, and Gerard holds onto Mikey until he stops trembling and his breathing slows.

"He must have been fourteen or fifteen, snuck out to see a show, and was sneaking back in, and he found his parents. Oh, God." Mikey presses his fingers to his eyes, trying to erase what he'd seen. "Oh, fuck, that must have been when the demon took him. His family wasn't Gifted, but he was a feral talent, he'd been struggling to understand what was going on as he came into his power—"

"Shhh," Gerard says, rocking Mikey a little. "Shhhh."

"Someone should have protected him, he was only a kid, Gee, he was probably about Jenny's age, someone should have kept him safe, oh, God—"

Gerard squeezes him tight, to the point where Mikey's bones feel like they're about to creak. 

"There's still a part of him that's good, he's not completely controlled by the demon. I can feel it, the way he's taken care of Lindsey all of these years, the love he has for his family, and how he wants to help people. He's still good," he says, like he's trying to convince Gerard, or maybe just himself.

"I know, I can Feel the goodness in him, it's just tainted by the dark. I can Feel how much he cares for you, even though he doesn't want to, he wants to be able to walk away, but he can't help himself, Mikey, Mikey, I _know_." Gerard keeps a tight hold on Mikey, not letting go.

"We gotta help him, Gee, gotta save him—" His voice is frantic, desperate, and Gerard just rocks him until he relaxes a little in Gerard's arms. He's exhausted, but doesn't think he can go back to sleep. He's too afraid.

Gerard talks him into getting back into the bed. He spoons up behind Mikey and holds him close, tells him a story about Smaug the Magnificent defending his kingdom and his treasure from the greedy dwarves, and sometime near dawn Mikey drifts off.

* * *

Lindsey wakes up slowly, and it's nice. The bed is soft and comfortable, and she thinks she might have had the best night's sleep she's ever had. It's a little chilly, but the pajamas that Gerard loaned her, with little Batman symbols, are doing a good job of keeping her warm.

She can smell coffee, and it draws her back down into the kitchen, where Donna is busy making breakfast. She looks at the clock and it's not as early as she'd thought, but she's already dressed and perfectly coiffed. "Can I help?"

Donna nods toward a bowl of batter. "You want to start on the pancakes?"

There's a griddle pan on one of the burners. Lindsey smiles. "I can do that."

"Excellent," Donna says, turning back to the stove. "Did you sleep well, my dear?"

Lindsey pushes up her sleeves. "I did," she asserts. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

Lindsey's got a decent pile of pancakes made when Gerard and Mikey stumble down, and she almost gasps at how _haunted_ they look, Mikey especially. Donna gathers them both close and hugs them, whispering against Mikey's temple.

Gerard leans against her for a moment, and she puts down her spatula to give him a hug. It feels natural and right. He doesn't feel like a stranger to her any more. He rubs his face against her hair, like a cat. "You okay, Gerard?"

"No," he sighs.

She wants to know what's wrong, wants to fix it, because she feels protective of Gerard, doesn't like the idea of him being unhappy or in pain. 

Gerard shakes his head and mumbles, "Later."

Lindsey lets it go, for now.

Breakfast is a quieter affair, with Don and Donna keeping the conversations going. They talk about what needs to be done in the coming week, like taking the dog to the vet and dropping off some donations to the local thrift store. Donna mentions a family wedding that's coming up in a month and Lindsey listens, amused, as Don tries to talk his way out of having to wear a suit.

Mikey and Gerard pick at their food, but they drink plenty of coffee, and the minute everyone else is done eating, they jump up and start gathering the dishes.

"Well, you know something wrong when those two volunteer to help with the dishes," Donna says wryly. Don barks out a laugh and Donna waves Mikey and Gerard away. 

"Sorry, Ma," they say, almost in unison.

They end up in the living room, Don and Mikey watching football while Gerard, Lindsey and Donna talk about random things, gossip about movie stars. It's nice and relaxing, and Lindsey drowses for a while, caught between awake and _not_. She feels safe.

Later, Donna makes coffee and sandwiches, and Lindsey's more awake.

"Let's go outside," Gerard says, and Lindsey lets him pull her up out of her chair.

The day's clear, just a little cloudy, and the afternoon as warmed up. The three of them sit in a little circle, and Mikey picks at the mostly dead grass nervously. 

"Lindsey, do you mind if I ask you some questions about Frank?"

Mikey still looks wounded, and Lindsey's not sure if that's a good idea or not. Gerard nods at her. "Please," he says. "We want to help him, but we need some answers."

Lindsey shrugs. "Okay."

"Tell me how Frank destroys the Hearts."

"Oh." Lindsey takes a deep breath. "I—I don't know. I think—I—he's always done that by himself." She looks down at her hands. "He always talks about helping—" Lindsey stops, because that's not the truth. She knows now that they haven't really been helping anyone.

"What about the dark thing inside of him?"

All the hair on her body stands up, making her twitch. "What? I don't know what you're talking about." And as she says the words, she knows that it's not true. "I—" She closes her eyes against the sudden stabbing pain in her head. "I—"

There's a shadowed corner of her mind, and it hurts to even contemplate it. But Lindsey pushes herself, moves past the pain and the darkness, and there's a loud pop, almost physical, and the headache melts away.

A flood of memories washes over her, things that she's somehow forgotten over the years. She remembers the first time they destroyed a Heart, how Frank's face had _changed_ , blurring into something hungry and inhuman, and how he'd somehow absorbed all the energy the Heart had released. She remembers Frank using her Gift to reassure their victims—there's no other word for the people they preyed on—and subverting their defenses. She remembers horrifying dreams of a malevolent force inside of Frank, and when she told him about it, he told her that it was nothing but a dream, a nightmare. Not real.

Years of memories forgotten, and now everything's coming back to her. "Oh, God, what have I done?" 

"Shhh, it's okay," Gerard says, wrapping his arms around her. "It's not your fault, you didn't have any choice, Frank didn't have any choice, it's that thing inside him."

Lindsey wishes she could believe him, but she feels tainted, dirty, because what they've done in the name of helping people was wrong. So, so wrong. And Frank, who's been a brother to her all these years, the only family she has—how much of that had been real, and how much of it had been the influence of whatever _thing_ possessed him?

Gerard presses a kiss to her hair. "It's going to be okay, I promise. We're going to help Frank. He's going to be okay, of course he's still your family, that's never going to change, Lindsey, that's what family means."

She just presses her face against Gerard's neck and breathes in the scent of him, letting his words soothe her, even if some part of her doesn't believe what he says.

After a while, she calms down, and reluctantly moves from the shelter of Gerard's arms. "I feel like such an idiot, never making the connection, never seeing the truth."

The look Mikey gives her is sympathetic. "That thing inside of Frank is a master of lies; I suspect hiding the truth from you wasn't hard, because you're inherently a trusting person. Frank's a good person, too, under all of his anger. The demon's been whispering in his ear for a long, long time."

"Yeah." She wipes at her face, and turns to Gerard. "Will you show me more about my Gift?"

Gerard smiles. "Of course." He takes her hand in his. "There are many different kinds of Gifts. For instance, my da's Gift is for machines. He understands them, knows why they don't work, can easily figure out how to make them work better, and has a knack for fixing them. Anything that has parts, and uses some kind of energy to perform a task, computers, engines, appliances, and the like. 

"My Gift is for Seeing, I can See the past, the future. I can cast stones and read the cards. I'm pretty empathic, and I can catch the thoughts of people I'm close to. I can Find things, and sometimes I can influence events."

"Which means don't ever take a bet against him," Mikey interrupts.

"Noted," Lindsey says with a tremulous smile.

Gerard sticks his tongue out at Mikey. "Anyway, Ma's a Healer, Nana's Gift is water magic and Jenny is a very strong telekinetic. And Mikey." Gerard grins. "Mikey is a jack-of-all-magics, multi-talented and pretty strong at whatever he does."

Lindsey would almost swear that Mikey's blushing a little.

"I'm not as good as Gee at Seeing. And I'm not much of a Healer," he says apologetically.

"And if you piss him off, he might turn you into a frog," Gerard says. 

"I knew you were going to bring that up," Mikey shoots back with an eye roll. " _One time_ , just _one time_ and you never let me forget about it."

Gerard smirks a little. "I was a very handsome frog, I have to admit. Purple and blue, with black spots."

" _Dendrobates tinctorius 'azureus'_ ," Mikey adds. "Blue poison dart frog."

"Did you find a princess to kiss him and remove the curse?" she asks Mikey, holding back her giggles. Listening to Mikey and Gerard banter settles her a little, chases away the fear and regret.

"I think I have now," Mikey says, and Lindsey feels her cheeks heat up.

" _Anyway_ , Lindsey, you seem to be strongly Gifted with the natural magics, like weather magic, and elemental magics. Do you have an affinity for one of the elements?"

Lindsey shook her head. "I. . .don't know. I'm not sure I understand what you're asking."

"Usually there's one element that you connect strongly with. Have you ever thought of yourself as a water person, because you love swimming and rivers and the ocean and rain? Or do you like flying, and spend time staring at the clouds and wishing you had wings? That kind of thing," Gerard explained.

"Oh." Lindsey thinks for a minute. "I like dirt. I like being barefoot and digging into the soil with my toes. It makes me feel grounded." She winks and Mikey and Gerard groan at her pun.

"The earth magics are life magics. You got a green thumb? Like animals?" 

She nods. She's always had a talent for growing plants and she loves to garden. And she _loves_ animals.

"Okay, good. That means you've got a strong affinity for earth. So," he says, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "Close your eyes and listen to my voice.

"Look inside yourself, in that quiet place where your power rests, can you see it? It's your special place, only for you, where you can recharge and be safe. This is your heartplace, where you come back to when you're done casting your abilities out in the world. Fix this place firmly in your mind, trace the path, know it like you know yourself." Gerard's voice is low and soothing, almost hypnotic.

"Okay," she murmurs. Her heartplace is like a greenhouse, filled with growing things and warmth and sunlight. It feels like home.

"Open yourself, feel the energy that flows through the earth, and gather some of that energy to yourself. Dip your hands into the stream and hold it cupped in your hands, like water from a river. And when you're ready, let it flow back out, controlling it, making it bend to your will. . ."

Lindsey can feel her forehead wrinkling in concentration, but she doesn't let that distract her. She guides the energy, pushes it out, and feels the life around her absorb it.

"Open your eyes, Lindsey. Look at what you've done," Mikey says.

She does as he says and finds the grass around them green and alive, not brown and withered. A grin breaks out on her face and she can't help the pride that she feels at learning something like this. She runs her fingers through the grass and can Feel how alive it is.

"Earth magics," Gerard says.

"More," she says. "Show me more."

It's getting late, though, the sunlight's starting to fade, and dusk in settling in. Lindsey's tired from exerting herself, learning to control the energies, and she has to work tonight. It's going to be a long shift, but she wouldn't trade the time she's spent with the Way family for anything.

"Later. You've expended a lot of energy and you need to take it easy. No reason to push yourself," Gerard says.

"Besides, Ma's cooking dinner—" A flash of fear passes over Mikey's face. "Frank?"

At the edge of the yard Lindsey can see Frank, pacing along an invisible barrier.

Mikey jerks back, like he touched something electric. "Not Frank," he says, and a look passed between him and Gerard. "The other."

"He's done something to the wards," Gerard says, voice a little unsteady. "I'm having a hard time keeping them up."

Lindsey Looks, and can see that Frank is draining the energy from the intangible walls that Gerard erected.

Frank steps back and makes a motion like he's throwing something at the wards, and even Lindsey can feel the vibration of the impact. Gerard gasps, and Lindsey feels his power falter.

"Fuck," Gerard hisses. "He's fucking strong, Mikey—"

"I know," Mikey says, and Lindsey feels the power he's drawing to himself. collecting it and spinning it, trying to reinforce the crumbling wards.

Frank shouts wordlessly, and Mikey and Gerard get knocked to the ground from the wave of power that Frank pushes at them. The wards are gone, Lindsey can Feel their absence, and Frank walks toward them.

When he's closer, Lindsey can see the hunger on his face, making his features sharper. He looks at Lindsey, and his contempt is clear. Mikey is right, this _isn't_ Frank.

Frank drops to his knees in front of the Heart and deliberately places both hands on the surface of it. Gerard and Mikey shudder at the touch, and Lindsey can Feel Frank draining the Heart of energy.

The clouds are getting darker and there's lightning zagging across the sky, and the roar of thunder rattles the windows on the house. The wind's picking up, blowing Lindsey's hair in her face, and when she pushes it out of her way, she sees how terrified Mikey and Gerard are in the face of Frank's attack on the Heart.

Gerard's face is pale and Lindsey crawls to him, trying to figure out how to help, merging her power with his, trying to give him strength. He looks at her and his eyes widen, and she can Feel his realization, and determination. He grabs Mikey's hand, and Lindsey's, and starts feeding energy _into_ the Heart. 

The stone starts glowing and Lindsey doesn't understand, but she lets Gerard take what he needs. Frank grins in triumph, opening himself up to the power that he's stealing from the Heart. 

Frank abruptly falters, overwhelmed by the amount of energy that he's getting, he's confused because there shouldn't be this much flow, and it's getting uncomfortable, too much for him to handle.

Gerard shouts something that Lindsey can't make out, with the cacophony of the wind and thunder, and he and Mikey somehow _increase_ the energy they're pushing through the Heart, and Frank is starting to glow, like the Heart. He's suddenly terrified, and tries to pull his hands off the Heart, but it's like he's glued to the stone.

He howls, an inhuman sound of anguish, shadows flickering across his face. The shadows spread outward, and his eyes burn like coal. The sound rises, growing in volume until it rivals the thunder and wind.

Mikey and Gerard _shout_ , throwing a surge of power, and there's a blinding flash, like lightning striking.

* * *

Frank shakes his head, trying to get rid of the dizziness that's making the world spin around. He blinks, eyes watering, and the afterimages slowly fade away. It takes him a moment, but he carefully get back on his feet. He feels bruised and battered, confused and uncertain.

Mikey, Gerard and Lindsey are still on the ground, looking a lot like he feels. He's not sure what's going on, or how he got here, and he notices that he's gotten in past Gerard's wards. The Heart, a simple-seeming stone marker, pulses with power. And—

Frank whimpers, the sound torn out of him, when he catches a glimpse of a shadowed shape. He knows what it is, the memories of that night suddenly sharp and vivid. It's impossible look at it straight on, the darkness has a way of _bending_ your eye around it, but there's no doubt that it's the same creature that killed his family, mom and dad, grandparents, aunt and uncle and a young cousin.

Lindsey retches and then climbs to her feet, helping Gerard and Mikey up.

"Yeah," Mikey mutters, like he knew this was coming.

Frank can see everything so clearly now. He remembers the darkness turning to him and surrounding him, pushing its way inside of his head as he screamed and begged for the nightmare to end. The darkness thrived on his anger, channeled Frank to do its will upon the world, and Frank feels sick.

The creature laughs at him, and Frank tries to cover his ears at the sound. "Look at what you've done in my name," it hisses, and shoves the memories to the forefront.

Frank presses his hands to his eyes, he doesn't want to see what he's done. "No," he denies. "No, no, no." He doesn't want to remember Will Armstrong, who taught him to play a guitar, or the Kirkwood brothers in Arizona, who sheltered Frank and Lindsey without question. Or the Wallace and Heath families in Texas, who welcomed them into their home, treated them like they belonged.

He wants to forget visiting Will at the hospital, his eyes as blank as his mind, or the matriarch of the Wallaces, who'd held out the longest when Frank had started to destroy their Heart.

Lindsey takes a step toward the _thing_ and it motions an amorphous appendage, flinging her back. She hits the ground hard and doesn't move.

"Lindsey!" Gerard shouts, and Frank sees the way Gerard hesitates, wanting to go to Lindsey, but at the same time unwilling to let Mikey face the creature alone.

The thing approaches the Heart and Frank's breath catches when Mikey steps in front of it. The darkness has grown in size, towering over Mikey, formless but still menacing. It laughs, a sound like bones grinding together, and it gathers a ball of dark energy between its 'hands.'

Every hair on Frank's body stands up. He can feel the power, and it's too much, it's going to blast Mikey, damage his mind and break his body. It's going to kill him, and there's nothing that Frank can do to stop it.

Frank can't help himself—he steps between the monster and Mikey.

"Frank—" Mikey says, but Frank ignores him, focusing on the dark creature in front of him. He looks at it, really _looks_ , and he can sense the damage it's caused to his psyche. He can feel the raw places where it kept Frank from healing, and how it egged him on, fed his anger and hatred. Fed _off_ those emotions.

It pisses Frank off. This thing killed his family, used him to destroy other Gifted families, and now wants to hurt Mikey's family. Mikey is special, one of the good guys, and Frank's not gonna let this thing win. Not anymore.

Frank gathers all of his anger and fury, centers it and lets it start building. He feels Mikey and Gerard and Lindsey feeding power to him, pulling from the Heart, and slowly funneling more energy to him, from the Way family, and others. Like eyes, he can Feel Hearts opening up and shunting power to him; it's amazing, all the people who are helping.

He's especially surprised at the strength that Mikey has, the ease he has in manipulating the enormous flood of energy.

 _i have hidden depths_ , Mikey thinks.

Frank laughs, feeling reckless. _no fucking kidding._

It hurts, handling all of this energy. It's more than Frank's ever dealt with, and it burns the edges of his mind. He wonders if he's going to survive, and then realizes it doesn't matter. What matters is stopping the darkness.

He takes the energy that's focused on him and narrows it down, making it sharp and pointy. The demon screams, and the sound is piercing, like needles being stuck into his head, and Frank _stabs_ at the darkness with all of the power he's collected, he can feel the strain and something _tears_ inside of him, and he's blown back by the terror and pain and fear and—

Everything stops.

* * *

The silence is deafening.

Gerard feels a little scorched around the edges, and when he tries to Feel, it _hurts_. like a bad mental sunburn. Burnout. He's heard tell of people who've destroyed their powers by channeling too much energy, he's even heard whispers of people who've gone catatonic, never waking up again.

He looks around, but the _thing_ , the demon, it's gone. There's a pile of ashes where it was, still smoldering a little. A breeze stirs the ashes, swirls them around and blows them away.

Taking a deep breath, he reaches out for Mikey, flinching at the pain. He can feel Mikey, but it's like he's surrounded by layers of cotton, fuzzy and muffled.

"Oh, no," Mikey whispers, and Gerard turns and sees Frank's body, crumpled and broken, eyes open and staring sightlessly into the sky.

Lindsey drops to her knees next to Frank, her hand shaking as she reaches out and touches Frank's neck, searching for a pulse. She shakes her head. "Oh, Frankie," she says, brushing the hair off his forehead. 

Mikey staggers like he's taken a blow, and Gerard steadies him. "Mikey—"

He shrugs Gerard off and crouches next to Frank. "Don't you leave me alone, you fucker. Do you you hear me? Don't you fucking dare." His voice wobbles and it hurts Gerard to hear it. Mikey touches Frank's face, then drops his head onto Frank's chest, ear pressed to his heart.

Gerard knows that there's nothing to hear.

"Mikey." He puts his hand on Mikey's shoulder, but he jerks away, like he can't bear to have Gerard touch him. 

"No." 

It's a flat denial, and Gerard looks helplessly at Lindsey. He doesn't know what to do; this isn't something he can fix. She wipes at the tears on her face and tries to smile for him, but he can feel how deep her grief runs. Frank was family to her.

And Mikey. Gerard rubs at his face, suddenly beyond exhausted. He carefully gets on his knees, his hand pressing against the middle of Mikey's back. Mikey's shaking, his breathing labored, cheek still resting against Frank. His hands are clenched tight in the material of Frank's hoodie.

"C'mon, sweetheart. There's nothing you can do," he says, softly. 

"No," Mikey says again. He sits up and takes off his glasses, pressing his fingers hard to his eyes. "No. I'm going to take care of him."

Gerard looks to Lindsey. In the normal world, you'd call the police, report a death, and the government would would send investigators and medical personnel. In their world, they had the Breithiúna, but in the end, they took care of their own. "All right," Gerard says. "We'll help you." Lindsey nods, looking relieved.

Mikey picks a spot near the Heart, under the old willow tree. They carefully move Frank and he feels so _wrong_ in Gerard's arms, there's nothing left except an empty shell. Mikey straightens Frank's limbs, closes his eyes, neatens his clothes. Frank's hair is in his face again, and Mikey makes a wounded sound as he brushes it back.

Frank looks peaceful in death, and Gerard can almost convince himself that Frank's just asleep, passed out drunk under the willow tree that Gerard and Mikey spent so much of their childhood under.

But he's not. Frank's gone, and Mikey sits and rocks a little at Frank's side, holds Frank's hand against his cheek, the tattoos dark smudges against the paleness of Frank's limp fingers. Lindsey, on the other side, rests her hand against Frank's shoulder, occasionally sniffling. Gerard sits next to Mikey. He wraps his arm around Mikey's waist, trying to help as best he can. He Sends out tendrils of love and comfort, wincing at the pain, but doing it anyway.

 _he's gone_ , and the thought resonates with sorrow. _we never had a chance._

"I'm sorry, Mikey. So sorry." He holds his hand out for Lindsey and she takes it, sharing her strength with him. Gerard holds onto Mikey, holds onto Lindsey and mourns.

* * *

Mikey barely feels it when Gerard touches him. His head is pounding, and he hurts everywhere, but all he can think about is how cold Frank's hand is in his.

He doesn't even notice the fact that his parents have come until his father pulls him close for an awkward hug. Don presses a kiss to his hair, murmurs softly to him. Mikey lets himself slump against his dad, not even trying to stop the tears. "That's it, Mikey, let it go, let it all out. . ."

His parents has always been there for him, whenever things get bad. But they can't fix this, no one can. Frank's gone, and all those little things that Mikey hoped they'd have time for, it's all gone. He's never going to get a chance to watch Frank sleep, or wake up slow and lazy next to him. They're never going to celebrate birthdays or anniversaries, never going to fight and have make-up sex afterward.

Mikey's entire life stretches in front of him, empty without Frank, and he doesn't know how he can make himself keep living. The idea is unbearable.

He blinks and Don is gone. Donna is tucking his hair behind his ears and talking to him, but the words make no sense. He blinks again and Nana's there, her face full of understanding. It's like a choppy time-lapse film and he just wants it all to _stop_.

It's raining, and Mikey's soaked through, shivering. Lindsey's gone, and Gerard comes back long enough to drape a blanket over Mikey's shoulders before leaving him alone again.

He sits and holds Frank's hand. 

He dozes, and when the sky starts to lighten, he leans down to press a final kiss to Frank's slack mouth. His eye catches on the scorpion tattoo on his neck, and it looks _wrong_. It's smudged and smeared, and when Mikey rubs his thumb against the spot, the ink is wiped clean.

Mikey pushes up the sleeve of Frank's hoodie, stunned as the tattoos become rain-splattered, distorted, and then wash away. He unzips Frank's hoodie and shoves aside his ragged shirt, because even though Mikey never saw the tattoos that adorned Frank's torso, he'd gotten hints. Inked lines peeking over the collar of Frank's shirts, faint shapes under thin fabric.

When the rain drips onto Frank's stomach and chest, the words and pictures there dissolve and run, like ink on paper. _Tattoos washing away in the rain_ , Gee'd said, voice uncertain. 

It's then that Mikey notices that Frank's chest is rising and falling, slow and constant. When he presses his ear there, he hears the rush of blood and the beat of a heart, and he closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the sound.

* * *

Frank slowly drifts into consciousness, and he Listens with his senses before he opens his eyes. He can smell a hint of snow in the air, and there's birds chirping and the rustle of leaves. He feels exhausted and wrung out, and there's a fierce headache coming on. Frank tries to reach out and Feel, but it hurts, the pain quickly escalating to an unbearable level.

He opens his eyes instead, and sees Mikey.

"Hey," Mikey whispers. He smiles at Frank. 

Frank's brow furrows. "What—" He clears his throat. "What happened?" He has fragments of memories, of fighting the dark thing that lived inside of him, Mikey and Gerard and Lindsey helping him, sharing power with him—he sits up in panic. 

"Where—"

"Shhh." Mikey rests his hand on Frank's chest, keeping him from sitting up further. "It's okay, it's gone." 

Frank recalls the exact moment when he was sure that Mikey was going to die, broken beyond repair by the power of the demon and— "Oh, fuck," he croaks and sits up, swallowing hard against nausea. "Lindsey?" he asks.

"She's fine. No one was hurt except for you."

Frank looks down at himself, and the back of his hands are blank. He pushes the sleeve of his hoodie up, and there's nothing but pristine skin, unmarked by ink. "My tattoos. . ." He can't believe what he's seeing. He got his first tattoo when he was fifteen.

"They're gone," Mikey says. "Washed away in the rain."

"I don't understand," Frank finally says.

"You died. You weren't breathing, your heart had stopped, you were _dead_. I sat next to you for hours, held your hand, cried, and when it rained, your tattoos washed away and you started breathing again." Mikey shrugged. "I don't understand, either." 

"I don't deserve to be alive. I've done terrible—"

"Shhh." Mikey says. "I know."

"No, you don't," he says, and his voice reflects how he feels inside, cold and dead. "There's no way to undo what I've done. So many horrible things, I've hurt so many people—" He can't make himself meet Mikey's eyes.

"It's okay, Frank." Mikey moves closer, hands out like he's trying not to scare Frank off, like he's a wild animal that needs taming. "It wasn't you, Frank. That thing—"

Frank laughs bitterly. "That thing didn't control me, Mikey. Influenced me, yeah. But I still made my own choices." Frank gets to his feet. He needs to go before he taints Mikey any more than he already has. Mikey is a good person, and Frank. . .is not.

He turns and walks away, not looking back even when Mikey softly calls his name.

* * *

While Lindsey stays with the Ways, Frank hides out at the Starlite. It's not a surprise, really, but it's still annoying.

The first couple of days, Lindsey leaves him alone, because she figures Frank's entitled to a few days to recover in peace. On the third day, she calls him. "Frank, I know you're there. Call me back, okay?" 

He doesn't.

Lindsey goes to the Starlite, talks to the skeezy desk clerk, who says that he hasn't seen Frank in days. She goes to their room, but it's locked. Magically locked, because her key doesn't work and the door frame feels weird. There's a low level buzz around the door that feels itchy and makes her hands twitch. "Asshole," she says loudly, but there's no response.

She enlists Gerard to help her stake out the place and they sit in the parking lot in front of the room, drink bad coffee and talk. She tells Gerard about her life, and all the places she's been, and he tells her about going to art school, and she's wistfully envious. She's never been able to afford to go to college, to take classes just because she wants to _learn_.

"Your parents were trying to keep you safe by leaving you at the orphanage," Gerard says, apropos of nothing.

Lindsey ignores the ache that blooms at the mention of her parents. "What do you mean?"

Gerard twined their fingers together and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "It was the same demon that killed Frank's family. It was hunting you, because your Gifts are strong, and your parents were trying to lead it away from you. Trying to keep you safe."

"Oh," she says in a small voice. Her whole life, she was sure she'd just been discarded, abandoned by her family like so much trash, and to discover that the truth was very different. . .it was going to take some time to process that.

Gerard wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close, and Lindsey lets herself relax against him, feeling safe and secure.

They watch the room, but there's never a sign of Frank.

Lindsey calls the nearest place that delivers food. The guy on the phone doesn't ask questions, even when she tells him she's in the Starlite parking lot. The delivery guy shows up twenty minutes later with an armload of food. 

Lindsey explains that part of the order has to be delivered to room 204; the delivery guy looks at the tip and shrugs, climbing the stairs and knocking on the door. They watch in amazement as the door opens a crack, and the delivery guy puts the food down and walks away.

A few minutes later, the door opens again and hands pick up the food. The door shuts firmly. It's like Frank's a mouse or something, coming out of his burrow only when he's sure no one is around.

Lindsey sighs and they wait a little longer, but Frank doesn't comes out.

* * *

It's easy for Frank to hide away in the hotel room at the Starlite. As long as Frank keeps the curtains drawn, he doesn't feel any remorse at not opening the door when someone knocks. He ignores his phone, though the only one who calls is Lindsey. She calls once a day, like clockwork, and leaves a message on his voicemail. Usually she talks about how she misses him and how ridiculous he's being, but he just can't find the courage to face her. Or Mikey.

He lies in bed, curled around a pillow, and tries not to think about all the things he's done, but it's all his brain can focus on. It makes him nauseous, and sometimes he finds himself bent over the toilet, retching. It's ironic, because he really doesn't have an appetite and he rarely remembers to eat. 

The only reason he eats at all is that Lindsey either sends food from the nearest pizza place to the room, or else she drops off sandwiches and soup outside of the door.

He wishes she would stop. He doesn't deserve her care.

There's a knock on the door, then another knock a few minutes later. It must be a new delivery person; Frank has the regular ones trained to knock, set the food down and leave. He waits for another couple of minutes and there's another knock. He gets up and shuffles to the door, opening it a crack. "What?"

The pizza place must be getting desperate—the delivery woman is older, with bleached blonde hair. "Hello, Frank," she says, and when Frank tries to shut the door on her, he finds that she's wedged her foot into the crack.

Mikey and Gerard's mom. Donna. Looking at her, he can't believe he didn't see the resemblance between her and her sons. 

"Will you let me in? I brought pizza." She holds up the pizza box and Frank catches a whiff of it and his stomach growls. He looks at her, meets her eyes, and he can see her determination. She's not going to leave until she's said what she's come to say.

Frank steps back and lets her in. The sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can get back to his brooding.

Donna sets the pizza down on the little table. "No cheese, no meat. Extra veggies. " She smiles. "Lindsey told me."

Frank stands there awkwardly. He sticks his hands in his pockets, shifts and crosses his arms across his chest, then runs his fingers through his hair. "What do you want?"

She sits at the little table and lights a cigarette. There's something soft, compassionate in her eyes. "It's not your fault, Frank."

Frank shrugs, because he doesn't believe it. If he'd been stronger, if he hadn't been as weak, maybe the demon would have left him alone. If he'd been home, like he was supposed to be, instead of at a club moshing—

"The demon chose your family because you were strong, and your family wasn't Gifted. It targeted you, waited until it had a chance to kill your parents and possess you. You weren't trained or equipped to deal with such a thing."

"I could have fought—"

She sighs. "I have a little of the Sight. If you'd fought—" She holds out her hand and Frank hesitates. 

Frank swallows down his fear and clasps her hand. He closes his eyes and—

It's the same scene from his memories, blood everywhere, but this time, he can see his own body on the floor, the dark shape crouched over him, digging insubstantial claws _into_ his chest, and the awful sounds—

He lets go of her hand. "It would have killed me."

She nods. "Yes. You were young, and vulnerable."

"It wasn't my fault." For the first time, Frank almost believes it.

"No."

Frank stares at the pizza box until everything gets blurry. Donna gets up and rests her hand on his shoulder. "Not your fault," she murmurs, and something inside Frank breaks, and his breath catches on a sob. She gathers him close while he shakes, letting go of everything he's buried under layers of faked indifference and repressed memories.

It hurts, and he grieves, but it's cathartic, like lancing a wound that's festered for years.

* * *

Mikey needs to get out of the house. He's on edge and really wants to go down to the Starlite and break down the door to Frank's room and shake some sense into Frank. He hasn't, mainly because his ma told him to give Frank some time, but it's making him crazy.

He goes for a drive, dressed warmly against the evening chill, and after a while, he realizes he's heading toward the playground by the high school. Of course, because he needs more reminders of Frank. He sits awkwardly on a swing and drags his feet through the dirt and thinks about what he wants to say to Frank.

"You could tell me how hot I am, and how much you want my body," Frank says, sitting in the swing next to Mikey, facing the opposite direction.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to Listen to what people are thinking?"

Frank twists the swing's chains. "No." He lets go, and the swing goes in wild circles until the chains are untangled. He reaches out and catches one side of Mikey's swing. "I'm sorry."

Mikey looks at him. "For what?"

Frank leans back in the swing, looking up at the sky. "Everything, really. For bringing the demon to your doorstep, for almost letting it destroy your family's Heart, for trying to hurt you and Gerard. For running away and hiding, afterward."

"What about those awful pick up lines? Are you sorry for those, too?"

Frank snorts. "No, I'm not sorry for those." He draws a heart in the dirt with the toe of his shoe. "Might even try a few more out on you at some point."

Mikey can't help but laugh softly. They sit quietly for a few minutes, the silence broken by the scuff of their feet and the clink of chains. "I'm sorry about your family, and what you've been through." 

"Me, too." Frank shifts his weight in the swing and bumps gently into Mikey. "So, we missed the zombie movie festival, but they're having a vampire one next weekend. You interested? I could probably spring for popcorn, too."

Mikey sees Frank's smile out of the corner of his eye, and bites his lip to hide his own grin. "I'll have to check my social calendar." He grabs the chain on Frank's swing and pulls him close. "Kiss me?"

Frank does.

* * *

It's a bright spring day, cool and breezy. The grass and dirt feel nice under Gerard's bare feet; he feels more connected to the world this way. Lindsey's wearing a pretty yellow sundress and she painted her toenails bright red. Gerard can't help but grin at that. She has a crown of flowers, feverfew and lavender, and it matches the one on Gerard's head.

Frank and Mikey are holding hands, and look so serious. Frank's hair is neatly combed and he looks different without the tattoos adorning his hands and arms and neck. Mikey's wearing his glasses, and he keeps pushing them back up anxiously. They're both wearing their best suits, and with their bare feet, it looks pretty ridiculous. 

"Shut up," Mikey mutters. "I'm not the one with _flowers_ in my hair."

Gerard laughs. Donna gestures them nearer, closer to the Heart, and he squeezes Lindsey's hand as they shuffle forward. Don is standing next to Donna, beaming happily at them.

Behind them, Gerard can feel his Nana and the whole Way-Rush clan, family and friends, Frank's one lone cousin and Lindsey's aunt, all here to help them celebrate.

Donna raises her hands. "Friends," she intones solemnly, "we are gathered here to witness the union of these two couples. Frank Iero and Mikey Way, Lindsey Ballato and Gerard Way." The words are formal, but the wink she gives Gerard is not. 

It's a perfect day for a wedding. Or two.

Frank giggles nervously before reciting the vows he wrote for Mikey, and Mikey stutters over a word or two of his. It's very sweet and disgustingly cute and Gerard makes gagging sounds in his head. 

Lindsey pinches him surreptitiously while Frank glares threateningly at him. "Behave," she whispers. 

When it's his turn, he looks at Lindsey and she's so stunning that he forgets what he's supposed to say, the words slipping from his mind. "Uh. . ." He can feel everyone staring at him; out of the corner of his eye he sees Frank making faces at him and he has the sudden urge to laugh hysterically.

"I, Gerard Arthur Way, promise you. . ." Lindsey mouths, and it's enough to jog his memory.

Gerard recites his vows, and each word resonates in the air, a promise, binding him to Lindsey, and her to him. When Lindsey says her vows, Gerard feels the way the magic wraps around them and ties them together.

"May you live happy lives together," Donna says, and he looks at Lindsey, at Frank and Mikey, and can See that they will.

-fin-


End file.
